Light and Shadows
by CindyT63
Summary: Don't be deceived into thinking this is a romance story. Some writers like to write "hurt/comfort." What if someone didn't write it, but lived it? Johnny becomes the object of someone's very lethal affections...
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Thanks to beta readers James, Pat, and Dewanna. Additional thanks to MJ for final edits and original posting, many years ago!__Special thanks to Audrey for giving this story another home at _.com/ Now that I'm back to writing, it seemed like a good idea to post all my stories here. Thanks to all who read this. I hope you enjoy it – feel free to let me know if you do!

**Light and Shadows Part 1:**

Terri stepped out of the shower and slipped into her favorite soft, comfortable sweats for a quiet evening at home. She turned on the TV as she began to towel-dry her long brown hair. She froze momentarily as she listened to the breaking news story, her eyes glued to the footage of the fireman carrying a small child through the smoke of the burning apartment complex. The flashing lights of the engines and the spotlights from the media eerily illuminated his soot-covered face. Something about the power of fire was enticing, alluring, seductive.

But, it was the image of the fireman on the screen that caught her eye. He looked familiar. The camera zoomed in on him briefly, confirming his identity, and then panned back to the reporter. The man had flirted with her several times after they had been introduced, but she had brushed him off. He was certainly attractive enough, though it seemed that he poured on the charm with all the nurses, and she hadn't found him particularly stimulating. This dangerous excitement cast the man in a very different light, and something about him now demanded her attention. She studied him in the shadowy background as he gently placed the child on the yellow blanket laid out by the other man. She felt a flash of deja vu as she watched him speak soothing words to the scared little girl, even as he swayed slightly and wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. Terri's attention lingered on the tall, dark-haired man. Her heart beat faster. Something was wrong; he wasn't moving right.

She let her towel drop to the floor as she moved closer to the television, focusing her world on the scene before her. She watched him stand up and stumble. Her heart lurched as he crumpled to the ground and struggled to get up. The image on the screen shook as the camera crew rushed to cover the dramatic new development. Strange and intensely familiar feelings she had been trying to repress began to surface, slowly at first, then flooding her senses. She switched off the sound, savoring the adrenaline rush that coursed through her body. She wished she were there. She waited to see more, and hoped they would replay the scene of the man's fall to the ground, or at least show a close-up of his face. She smiled to herself as the almost palpable energy washed over her. He was exactly what she needed now, and she would see him tomorrow.

_Two hundred fifty four…two hundred fifty five… _

Johnny lay in the hospital bed, attempting to force the minutes to pass more quickly by counting the small dots on the white ceiling tiles. He felt totally saturated with television, having seen his picture on every local news show all morning. Normally he enjoyed publicity, but they hadn't even gotten his name right, much less his job title. He could recite the most recent reports verbatim now: "Fireman John Sage is now in satisfactory condition at Rampart General Hospital after succumbing to heat exhaustion in the heroic rescue of five-year old Emily Parks...." He frowned. He felt good about saving Emily, of course, and had been very relieved when he'd heard she had already been released from the hospital. But, somehow, passing out on TV didn't seem all that heroic to him, and now that he felt better, he was hopelessly bored. He wanted company. He wanted a good cup of coffee. He wanted out.

_Aw man… lost count._

As Johnny started over, a glorious distraction breezed into the room and changed his entire disposition. She was beauty personified. The prettiest nurse Rampart had seen in two years approached his bed. _Terri. _Even in the stark white nurse's uniform, she looked stunning. She flipped his chart open and prepared to check his vitals. He expected the same cool reception he had been getting from her for the past several weeks, but was pleasantly surprised when an almost playful grin appeared on her face. She made eye contact, and then looked back at the name on the chart. She raised one eyebrow. "And here all this time I thought your name was John Sage."

Johnny sat up higher in the bed and flashed his most disarming smile._ This could be fun_. "That would be John _Gage_. With a G. Uh, two G's, actually."

"Ah, yes. Two G's. Good thing there's an 'e' at the end, or your name would be 'Gag,'" she flirted. She sighed dramatically, teasing him. "It's a shame you're not John Sage. I've been watching him on TV, and he is very attractive. He's quite a hero, too. You wouldn't know him, would you?"

Johnny's morning was looking up. He responded in kind. "It just so happens I do know him. He's a heck of a great guy. Intelligent, charming--"

She placed the thermometer in his mouth as Roy walked in.

_Talk about lousy timing. _

"Hey, Johnny, they letting you out soon?" Roy tossed a bag with two doughnuts over to his recuperating partner.

Johnny shot him a very determined "_Not now, Roy" _look and gestured surreptitiously toward the nurse with his head. Roy looked perplexed for a moment, and then he nodded knowingly when he saw her. He had certainly seen this scenario played out before. Roy didn't envy Johnny's track record with the opposite sex by any means, but he secretly admired the man's ability to confidently strike up conversations with pretty women. Johnny seemed to thoroughly enjoy the art of the chase, even if he usually didn't win.

Roy smiled. "You look like you feel better. Uh, well, maybe I'll go find Dr. Brackett and see when you're going to get out of here, okay?"

"Great idea. Thanks, Roy," Johnny mumbled around the thermometer.

Terri began taking his blood pressure and pulse. Johnny hoped his heart rate hadn't shot up too much due to her presence. "Well, Mr. Gage-with-two-G's, do you happen to know if John Sage is seeing anyone?"

Of all the times to have a thermometer stuck in his mouth. "Hm-mm."

"Hmm. Now, would that be 'huh-uh' you don't know, or 'huh-uh,' he isn't?"

Johnny quickly took the thermometer out. "Huh-uh. No, he isn't. But I'm sure he'd like to. I can almost guarantee it." He put the thermometer back in his mouth.

She removed the thermometer slowly, leaning closer to him than was necessary, and her sparkling blue eyes met his before she recorded the number. Johnny thought there ought to be an age limit on whatever perfume she was wearing; it was intoxicating. Her closeness unnerved him slightly and he swallowed hard, uncharacteristically speechless.

Dr. Brackett entered the room and was a little surprised to see Terri, since she usually worked the E.R. She handed him the chart, and he nodded his head approvingly before doing a quick exam. "Looks good, Johnny. Let's see about getting you some discharge papers. When is your next shift?"

Johnny found his voice. "Huh? Oh, tomorrow."

"Well, I want you to take it easy one additional day. You can return to work the following shift."

From behind the doctor, the young nurse met Johnny's eyes again and mouthed the words, "See you later." She winked as she left the room, walking very slowly, for Johnny's benefit.

Johnny continued to stare in the direction of the door long after it had shut, his mouth hanging open. He sighed heavily and sank back into his pillow. "Doc, I'm feelin' a little warm -- I think I'm having a relapse. Maybe I better stay here another day or so...."

Dr. Brackett was neither stupid nor blind. He closed Johnny's chart and looked toward the door, chuckling. "So, I see you've met Terri." He shook his head slowly. "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny...."

"Well?" asked Roy expectantly as he opened his locker to change. "How does it feel to be back after a relaxing four days off? You know you really lucked out."

Johnny placed his hand on his chest, feigning hurt. "Lucked out? You think I was lucky? Hey, I was the one injured, remember?"

Roy laughed at Johnny's flare for the dramatic. "I thought that was your good twin, 'John Sage, Heroic Fireman.'"

"No, Roy, you've got it all wrong. _I'm_ the good twin. _He_ just gets all the publicity."

"From what I saw, you weren't doing so bad…laying around flirting with nurses."

Johnny stopped buttoning his shirt and grinned broadly, staring off into space. "Ah… Rampart's heavenly new nurse: Terri Miller. She's something, isn't she?" He sighed deeply, and resumed getting dressed.

"And…?"

"And, what?"

"Don't keep me in suspense. Did you call her?"

"Nope." Johnny finished buttoning his shirt. He stood up and smoothed the front of his clothes for effect. "_She_ called _me_. We're goin' out Wednesday." He strutted out of the locker room, ten full minutes before roll call.

_Oh boy,_ thought Roy, as he anticipated the insufferable ego he would be saddled with for the next long 24 hours… and ten minutes. He mentally kicked himself, and then followed Johnny to the kitchen. _I had to ask…_

Terri removed the small swatch of fabric from the strongbox, and gently rubbed it against her cheek. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, still able to smell traces of the acrid smoke that had permeated the cloth so many years ago. She remembered waking up coughing as the smoke assaulted her senses. She could almost hear her mother's screaming voice and her father's frantic yells even now. Her father had found her and wrapped her in the small blanket and rushed her past the flames, to the safety of the front yard. He had kissed her forehead and reassured her with soothing words before he had handed her to a neighbor and run back into the smoke-filled house to help Terri's mother. Terri hadn't noticed her mother's jealousy that night, but the effects of the resentment that had been building since Terri's birth would be felt for years.

She returned the fabric to the box and placed it back under her bed. She picked up the framed black and white picture of her father and her, taken two years after the fire, when she was six. Her father still looked quite handsome in the picture, with his dark hair and strong jaw, despite his illness. And his eyes. She needed only to stare at those adoring eyes to remember the love he had held for her. Such a contrast to her mother, she thought bitterly. She returned the picture to her nightstand with a wistful look at the man in the photo, and she continued to get ready for her date.

Johnny had tried for nearly a week to maintain a certain degree of composure about his upcoming date with Terri. But, now, standing at her door, he had to convince himself that he wasn't nervous. He had dated plenty of attractive women before, and Terri wasn't really that different. But, maybe he should have worn a different shirt. Maybe bowling wasn't such a great idea. Maybe she really hated bowling and just agreed to go to be nice. _Just knock, _he coached himself, _everything will be fine. She asked me out. _He took a deep breath and knocked, trying his best to make the knock sound confident, yet "casual."

When Terri opened the door, Johnny was immediately captivated. He quickly came to the conclusion that her jeans couldn't possibly fit anyone else quite like that. She certainly did the sweater justice as well. He imagined that she would even make rented bowling shoes look feminine. He blushed slightly as he realized he was standing in her doorway staring at her, and he hadn't said a word.

Unable to think of something witty or clever, the words, "Wow, Terri - you look great," spilled out of his mouth. _Slick, Gage… real slick. _However, true to his character, he made up for any occasional deficits in his verbal skills with his most charming smile, which had been known to melt the hearts of many female onlookers.

Terri smiled back pleasantly, enjoying the effect she knew she was having on the man. First dates were so important, especially for Terri, and Johnny looked awfully good. She knew the night would only get better. She had arranged for that.

After Johnny's brief awkwardness at the door, the evening progressed fairly well. They chatted over dinner about their jobs and how they each had ended up in Los Angeles. Johnny didn't notice that Terri asked most of the questions; he was too caught up in the fact that she was so interested in him. Bowling went well, too, and Johnny was just enough better at the game that he felt justified in giving her some "hands on" lessons for improving her bowling technique.

As Johnny leaned forward to kiss Terri good night at her door, the two were jarred from their romantic reverie by yelling that erupted from the alley below. Johnny hesitated, and then chided himself for the temptation to ignore the disruption and lose himself in Terri's embrace.

"Nice neighbors," he muttered sarcastically with a backward glance toward the stairwell.

"Johnny, it sounds like someone's in trouble. Maybe you should--no, never mind, that would be too dangerous. We better call the police." Terri began to unlock her door.

"Let me check it out. You go ahead and call it in." He started back down the hall, and hit the stairs running when he heard a woman scream. He shouted back over his shoulder, "Lock your door!"

Terri observed the determination on Johnny's face as he vanished down the stairs. "Be careful," she called after him. She entered her apartment and closed her eyes, wondering what exactly was happening out in the alley. She felt a small shiver flutter across her skin. After several minutes, she called the police, very aware of the slight tremors in her voice.

Outside, Johnny followed the shouting around the corner of the apartment building. He was a little disgusted that no one else was coming out to investigate, but not very surprised. He tried to ignore the sudden pounding in his chest as he saw the big man in the shadows of the alley. The man loomed over a woman, holding her by the shoulders, shaking her, as he yelled just inches from her face. She turned her face to the side to avoid the repulsive spray of saliva that punctuated every syllable. When he saw Johnny, his pudgy features distorted further.

He looked at Johnny with disdain, and then turned back to the woman, delivering the lines he had been given. "Is that your new boyfriend? Is that it? He's here to rescue you?" He turned back to Johnny. "You want her, hotshot? Come get her!" He locked eyes with Johnny, daring him to approach.

Johnny held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture, and called up his most mollifying tone, to de-escalate the bulky man. "Sir, I want you to try to calm down. Somebody's going to get hurt. Please, just let her go. Just try to settle down, I'm sure this can all be worked out."

"Somebody's gonna get hurt, all right!" growled the man as he viciously slapped the woman aside. Johnny rushed to the woman and quickly helped her to her feet. He stepped in front of her protectively as the raging man lunged. Johnny dodged the attack, and he pushed the woman down the alley toward the relative safety of the street. He heard the sound of her retreating footsteps, and felt a small measure of relief. His attention was diverted from the man for a split second when he started to trip on a discarded bottle. As he turned back toward the enraged man, he felt the man's huge right fist smash into the side of his face, followed immediately by an equally aggressive punch to his other eye. Johnny's arms instinctively flew up to his face, which felt like it had been hit with a 2 by 4. A soggy cardboard box softened his fall to the ground. He scrambled to his feet in a daze and backed away from the man, blood dripping from his nose and face.

"Want some more, Loverboy?" the man snarled menacingly as he picked up the empty bottle. His laugh sounded hideous, and he waved the bottle towards Johnny. "You're such a sucker!" the man spit through his tobacco-stained teeth. He lobbed the beer bottle at Johnny's head. Missing his target, he cursed, and disappeared around the back of the neighboring building.

Johnny made his way out of the alley and up to Terri's apartment. Blood flowed freely from his nose and under his left eye, and both eyes were beginning to swell shut. He knocked on the door, leaning a shoulder against it to steady himself.

Terri peered through the peephole. Her breath caught at the sight of blood on Johnny's face, and she yanked the door open.

Johnny toppled into her apartment in a heap, landing hard. He hissed as he rolled to a sitting position, holding his nose with both hands. "Damn, that hurts."

Terri gasped dramatically and dropped to her knees to help him. "I'm so sorry, Johnny. I didn't know you were… Your face - oh God, what happened? Your eyes. You're bleeding! Here, let's get you to the couch. What happened?" She helped him up and guided him across the room. "Lean your head back. I'll get some ice. You poor thing."

Johnny tried to make light of his injuries. "Boy, I sure taught that guy a lesson, huh?"

Terri opened the first aid kit she kept in her bathroom, and tore open a gauze pad with well-practiced ease. She folded it into quarters and pressed it against the wound under Johnny's eye. He flinched and pulled away involuntarily.

"I know… sorry," she said with a grimace. She studied his face, watching his every move and reaction, finding him more intriguing by the moment. The blood on his face mesmerized her.

While Johnny held the pad in place, Terri wrapped a white washcloth around an ice bag and carefully placed it on the pad. "See if you can hold pressure on the pad with this. You're going to need to alternate which eye you put that on, unless you want a second ice bag."

"One will be fine, thanks." He adjusted the ice and tried to make himself to relax a little. "Ah, that's better. Man, I hope his hand hurts as much as my face does. I hope the woman got away. He slapped her pretty hard. What a jerk."

"The police should be here soon. Let's worry about you right now."

"Maybe I should go outside and--"

"No," she cut him off. "You should sit here and let me play nurse." She liked the sly grin that appeared on what she could still see of Johnny's face, and added, "I didn't say, 'play doctor,' Mister Gage, I said, 'nurse.' Now, be a good little patient." She stood behind the couch and started massaging his tense neck and shoulder muscles.

Johnny felt himself unwind a little under her gentle care. "You're hired. That feels really good. You said you called the police?"

"Yes. They should be here any time. I wonder what's taking them so long."

Much as he would have loved to continue with the massage, Johnny stood up slowly when he saw the flashing lights outside the window. He recognized the two officers who got out of the patrol car, but he couldn't remember their names. Johnny held the ice bag against his face and stepped out into the hall as the two men reached the top of the stairs.

The older, slightly heavy cop thought Johnny looked familiar. He introduced himself as Officer Bill Devlin, and his partner as Officer Jeff Grant. "Aren't you a firefighter out of 51s? Jeez, kid, what happened to your face?"

"Yeah, Gage. John Gage. Sorry, uh, I'm a little messy here," Johnny explained, ignoring the cop's out-stretched hand.

Devlin nodded with recognition. "Gage? That's right, I saw you on the news last week. Thought your name was Sage."

"Gage. It's _Gage_." He lowered the ice for a minute to see if the bleeding had stopped.

Terri guided Johnny's hand back up with the ice. "Put it on your other eye now, Johnny, Hon."

Devlin and Grant both winced at the sight of Johnny's swollen face and the bloody cloth. "Man, he got you good. Go sit down, will ya? You're makin' me nervous. What'd he hit you with, a brick?"

"Feels like it. Guess I'm lucky he only hit me twice. The guy was huge. He was about 30, and probably six-foot three, 250 pounds. Reddish-brownish hair and a scraggly-looking beard. I just hope that gal got away. I'd hate to think I got beat up for nothing," he added with a wry smile.

Devlin got out a small spiral notepad and began to jot down notes as Johnny filled them in on what had transpired. They weren't too hopeful that they would find the assailant, despite the reasonably good description Johnny gave them, unless the guy got picked up for something else. They asked him to swing by the station in the morning to look at mug shots.

Devlin watched Terri fuss over Johnny, gently wiping the blood from his face and hands with a clean damp cloth, bringing him a glass of water, holding the ice pack for him. The cop felt a twinge of jealousy. _Some guys have all the luck._ "You gonna be okay?"

Terri answered for him. "His laceration needs to be cleaned and may need stitches, and a doctor needs to check his eyes and nose, and--"

"Can you tell she's a nurse?" Johnny attempted a laugh.

Devlin closed his notepad and headed toward the door. "Well, then you're in good hands, huh?"

Johnny sat on the exam table in the treatment room. He moaned inwardly when Dr. Morton walked in._ Why did it have to be Morton?_

"Don't see us enough on the job, hm?" the doctor stated as much as asked.

"Not my fault, Doc. I was just trying to have a nice date with one of the new nurses. You probably know her. Terri Miller?"

Dr. Morton nodded. "Yes, I know Miss Miller. She seems to be a very competent nurse. Let's have a look."

Johnny gingerly lowered the bloodied washcloth containing the now mostly-melted ice, and he spoke quietly. "Listen, you're not gonna tell everybody about me gettin' punched out, are ya? I mean, I'm still gettin' harassed about passing out on TV last week."

Dr. Morton gave his patient an appraising look and snorted. "Well, I'll tell you what. You tell me how you plan on keeping two black eyes a secret, and I won't tell a soul."

Johnny winced as the doctor probed the injuries. "Ooh, ouch, take it easy, Doc." He had never liked Dr. Morton's bedside manner.

"Well, nothing seems broken, but you will need two or three stitches beneath that eye. What was it? The ol' one-two punch?"

"Yeah, something like that. Hey, take it easy, will ya?" Johnny flinched again.

Johnny spotted Terri entering the treatment room, and he smiled. Doctor Morton noticed the change in Johnny's demeanor--especially that he had quit complaining. That would be a plus while he stitched the cut under Johnny's left eye. It occurred to the doctor that with all the injuries Johnny racked up, dating nurses was probably one of his wiser moves.

After Doctor Morton finished, he started to head out the door and at the last minute he turned around. "One more thing, Johnny."

"What's that, Doc?"

"Next time, duck."

"Wise guy," Johnny muttered as the doctor left the room.

Terri approached the exam table and laced her fingers behind the back of Johnny's neck. "I'm really sorry you got hurt, especially outside my apartment. I almost feel like it's my fault."

"Your fault? How could you think that? I've never been good at minding my own business. I'm just sorry it wrecked our date."

Terri stared at him, admiring the intimately close view of the handsome man in his battered condition. She leaned in closer and kissed him, slowly at first, and then more passionately. "I wouldn't say it wrecked our date entirely. Maybe I should drive you home."

Johnny didn't notice when Terri deftly slipped the bloodied washcloth into her purse.

When Johnny returned to work, he entered the locker room sporting two very impressive black eyes. He hoped to get a little sympathy and encouragement from Roy before facing the rest of the crew.

"What happened to you?" Roy examined the damage and let out a low whistle. "Don't tell me she hit you with a bowling ball."

"Ha, ha." Johnny gave Roy a quick rendition of his run-in with the man he had now named Goliath. He slumped down on the bench in front of his locker, dreading what he knew was to come. "Man, I am NOT looking forward to seeing the guys." With a heavy sigh, Johnny stood up and opened his locker to change. The well-placed water bomb burst in Johnny's face, truly adding insult to injury. "Damn it, Chet!"

Chet heard the long-anticipated "splash" and perfunctory shout that followed. He entered the locker room with a broad grin, but stopped in his tracks as he took in Johnny's appearance. "Whoa-Ho! Nice mask there, Ricky Raccoon! A very wet Ricky Raccoon. I guess I won't ask about your big date."

"Chet--"

"Looks like she can throw a pretty good punch. Who cares what she looks like, I like her already."

"Shut up, Chet!" Johnny quickly unbuttoned his drenched shirt and threw it at Chet.

"And, dry your hair off, will ya? You're drippin' all over!"

It was too early in the day for Roy to play referee between these two. He gave Johnny a supportive pat on the back and then headed to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee, leaving Johnny to fend for himself. It was just as well to let them get their sparring over with now.

As Roy sat down with his coffee, Chet bounded into the kitchen, quite pleased with himself for rattling Johnny's cage so early in the morning.

Marco looked up from the morning paper. "What's got you in such a good mood so early?"

Chet chuckled, rubbing his hands together. "Have you seen Gage yet? Easy pickin's, my boys. Easy pickin's."

Mike looked up from his coffee and showed some interest.

"Two black eyes; not one - _two_," Chet said, holding up two fingers for added emphasis. "And the Phantom got him, too. _Splat! _Right in the face. You should've seen him! I'm gonna have fun with this all day."

Roy took a long sip of his coffee and sighed. "Not that it will make any difference, but you remember his big date a couple days ago, right?"

"Yeah, Terri." Chet rolled his eyes. "We only heard her name a thousand times or so all week."

"I guess some guy was roughing up a woman right outside Terri's apartment, so Johnny went to check it out. You know, see if he could help."

Disappointment, mixed with concern, played across Chet's face, "So, he slammed his face into the guy's fist? Twice? Clever. Jeez… only Johnny." He headed to the coffee pot and emptied it into his cup.

Johnny entered the kitchen, hoping to down his morning caffeine before roll call. He stared at the empty pot with disgust, and noticed the talking had stopped. Their efforts to avoid staring at his face were not lost on him. "Okay," he started, with his arms outstretched, "get a good look. Get all your comments out now. I believe Chet has already claimed 'Ricky Raccoon.' Who wants Zorro… or maybe the 'Lone Ranger', or how about…"

The tones sounded. "Squad 51, Man down. 2265 Edgewater. 2-2-6-5 Edgewater. Time out 7:57."

The "Man Down" turned out to be a 52-year old man who had just started wearing bifocals the previous day. He had missed the bottom porch step and had twisted his ankle. He had assured his wife that his ankle was only "sprang," but she had insisted on calling the paramedics. The man had continued to insist to Johnny and Roy many times while they completed their examination that it was only "sprang." The two paramedics were quite happy to turn the trying man back over to his wife, who promised to drive him to his general practitioner.

As Johnny and Roy packed up their gear and prepared to leave, the man began to snicker. "Nice shiners you got there." When Johnny didn't respond, he added, "Hey, kid! Next time, keep your left up!"

Johnny glared at the man, and although he couldn't swear to it, he thought he might have heard a quiet chuckle from the other side of the squad.

Roy backed into the station and eased the squad to a stop. As they entered the dayroom, Johnny broke his gloomy silence. "Roy, if I hear the word 'sprang' one more time, I'm gonna go crazy."

Chet looked up from scratching Henry's ears, "Short trip, Gage."

Johnny was not deterred. "He must have said it twenty times. Don't people know the word is 'sprained?' 'Sprang' isn't even a word. And, if so much as one more person gives me any 'advice' on fist fighting, I'll really lose it."

"Short trip, Gage," Chet repeated.

Johnny looked at him with annoyance. "What have we got, an echo in here? Don't you have a latrine to clean or something, Chet?"

"Don't get grumpy. Just tryin' to lighten things up around here. Never mind." He leaned close to Henry's ear, "No one appreciates us, do they, Henry?"

Roy knew it was time to redirect Johnny's energy to something more positive. He poured two cups of fresh coffee and placed one in Johnny's hand. "So, are you going to see Terri again?"

Johnny immediately brightened. "She's incredible, Roy. She can't wait to go out again. Our days off don't match up again until Tuesday. She feels so bad about what happened last week that she wants to cook me dinner. _Then_ we're going to a movie. And, if any fights break out, I'm just gonna stay out of the way."

Mike looked up from his newspaper. "Do the police have any leads on the guy who decked you?" he asked.

Johnny corrected him. "You mean the guy who blindsided me, Mike. _Blindsided._ It wasn't like I just stood there and let him punch me, you know."

Mike's expression didn't waver. "Any leads?"

Johnny shook his head and frowned. "I haven't heard anything yet."

Marco joined in the exchange. "Roy says she's really pretty. Like a model or something."

"You got that right. She's a knockout, isn't she, Roy?"

Roy echoed, "She's a knockout."

"And, she's cookin' _me_ dinner." Johnny reminded them.

"She's cookin' him dinner," Roy echoed again, in jest. His work here was done. Johnny had completed the transformation from grumpy to gloating, and the remainder of the shift was a relative breeze.

Johnny knew the days would drag until Tuesday unless he kept busy. To make the time go faster, he started a big project he had been thinking about for months: building a deck. He spent all of Sunday taking measurements, preparing the site, drawing up the plans, buying the lumber, and supplies, and borrowing a few key tools from Roy. He would be ready to begin construction after the next shift.

Monday was a quiet day at the station, which made Tuesday night feel as though it would never come. By the time the shift finally ended, Johnny dashed home to begin actual work. Roy helped him for the first half of the day, and then headed home to tackle some of his own projects.

Terri reached under her bed and pulled out the strongbox. She sat on the floor to unlock it, and then she slowly opened the lid. She carefully removed the stained white washcloth that now held her mother's engagement and wedding rings, pausing briefly to stare at the dark blotches on the cloth. She sighed and returned the cloth to her special box, then she removed the two bottles she had come to get. She checked the labels: Chloral Hydrate. Ipecac.

Johnny picked up some flowers on the way to Terri's to set a romantic tone for the evening, and he was not disappointed. He thoroughly enjoyed the lengthy "thank you" kiss that followed.

The candlelight dinner Terri presented was flawless, from the perfectly grilled medium-rare steaks to the chocolate mousse. Johnny wasn't prepared for the heavy blanket of drowsiness that began to envelope him, though. He tried to shake off the feeling with energetic talk. "Terri, you are a fantastic cook! That has to be the best meal I've had in a long time. Let me help you with the dishes. I need to get up or I'm gonna fall asleep here."

"I'm not boring you, am I?" Terri teased.

Embarrassed, Johnny stammered, "No, no… not at all --"

"Don't worry, I'm kidding. But, I don't believe in ruining a nice evening by doing dishes. They can wait. Maybe I can wake you up with some coffee before we go to the movie."

Johnny tried to perk up, surprised at his growing fatigue. It was the _last_ thing he ever expected to feel in Terri's presence. "Sounds great. Thanks. I can get it." He really felt like he needed to move or he would fall asleep.

"No, no. You sit down and relax a minute. I'll bring the coffee." She smiled and gave him another lingering kiss.

"I could get used to this," he called after her in jest, stifling another yawn. He chuckled to himself when he heard her laugh. He felt extremely relaxed, but he attributed his drowsiness to the big meal. Coffee would help. He certainly didn't want to yawn through the movie or, God forbid, fall asleep.

"Black?" she called.

"Yeah, thanks. Sure you don't want any help?"

"I've got it right here. Just a second." Terri knew they wouldn't be going to the movie. She looked forward to something a bit more…interactive. She much preferred creating and directing a drama herself, and she had done her research, much as she was now sure her mother had done hers. But, medicine was anything but an exact science, and she recognized the possibility of error. That was part of the excitement. She dumped some of the syrupy liquid into the coffee cup and stirred. She handed Johnny his cup and sat down next to him, acutely aware of his struggle to stay conscious.

He took a sip. "Wow, that's some strong coffee. But, it's good. Guess we won't be falling asleep during that movie, huh?" _Smooth, Gage, insult her coffee…_

He picked up one of the photography magazines off her coffee table. "You into photography?" he asked, as much to keep himself awake as to make conversation.

"It's a hobby. Want to see some of my pictures?"

"Absolutely. I take a few pictures myself. Nature shots, mostly. And, Roy's kids. And, my horses, of course."

"It may take me a minute to find my best ones. I haven't gotten all my boxes of stuff like that unpacked yet. Wait here, okay? I don't want you to see my mess back there." She disappeared into the back of her apartment.

Johnny drank his coffee quickly, hoping the caffeine would kick into gear soon. He stood up and paced to keep himself from dozing off. For the first time, he noticed that Terri really didn't have a lot in her apartment. No pictures on the walls, despite her interest in photography, no knick-knacks, just the basics. _She must not have gotten those unpacked yet, either_, he reasoned, though he knew she'd lived there a couple months.

After a few minutes, she reappeared with a large album. "Found 'em!"

Johnny pored over her pictures; he admired her skills as a photographer, but found the content of some of them a little disturbing. All of the pictures were black and white, and very artistic, but the subject matter seemed dark, and the lighting odd, harsh. He turned more pages. Most of the pictures were of crash sites or natural disasters, but there was always a person somewhere in the picture. Some of the photos felt almost haunting in tone. She certainly had a gift for capturing the raw emotions of tragedy. Every time Johnny looked up at her, he found her staring at him. He assumed she was studying his reaction to her pictures and hoped she couldn't tell how hard he was working to keep his heavy eyelids open. But, of course, she did know.

"These are really powerful, Terri." He did respect her talent, but they weren't pictures you'd hang on a wall in your house. Not his house, at any rate.

After about 15 minutes of looking at photographs and chatting about hobbies, Johnny stood up on his unsteady legs, suddenly feeling very queasy. "Mind if I get a glass of water?" _God, don't let this be the flu. Not tonight…_

"Sure. Are you okay? You don't look like you feel very good. Sit down. Let me get it."

"I probably just ate too much of your good cooking," he said self-consciously. He was rapidly feeling worse, like he had been trolling on a fishing boat for hours. "Are you feeling okay? Maybe I'm coming down with the flu."

She brought him a tall glass of water. "Here, maybe this will help. Hope it wasn't my cooking."

"If you aren't sick, too, then it isn't food poisoning. Man… Terri…" Johnny made a hasty retreat to her bathroom, where things progressed from bad to worse. He retched violently several times, shocking himself with the volume of his donations to the toilet bowl. He felt absolutely and undeniably miserable. He wanted to just lie down on the floor and sleep. Eventually he rinsed his mouth out, splashed cool water on his face, and ventured slowly out to the living room, looking very pale.

"I guess I've got the flu. My feet feel like lead. I'm really sorry, Terri. I'm going to need to call this evening short," Johnny said with exasperation.

She gave him a very understanding look and felt his forehead. "You do feel a bit warm," she lied. "Want me to take your temperature?"

"Nah, I already know I'm sick."

"Hey, everybody gets sick. I'm just sorry I won't get to spend more time with you. Maybe I should drive you home."

Johnny managed a weak smile. The thought of driving home seemed as daunting as running a marathon. "I'll be fine, but thanks. I'm really sorry about the movie." He appreciated her undertanding attitude. His knees started to buckle as he headed toward the door.

Terri took the keys from his hand and eased him back down to the couch. "Why don't you sit another minute until you're sure you're okay to drive?"

Instead of relaxing on the couch, Johnny quickly returned to the back of Terri's apartment, where he endured two more bouts of abject misery in the bathroom. He had never been so violently ill in his life. Terri stood outside the bathroom door, listening with perverse satisfaction, feeling empowered with her ability to toy with his life.

Johnny rested his head briefly on the cool edge of the bathtub and dozed off. He woke up moments later, slightly disoriented, as Terri entered the bathroom to check on him.

"God, I don't want you to see me like this," he moaned as he stood up, shaking from head to foot.

"I'm a nurse, Johnny, I've seen it before. Let me help you. Come on. I made a bed for you on the couch. You're not driving anywhere tonight."

He practically collapsed onto her couch, closing his eyes as she covered him with a thick quilt and kissed his cheek. "Here. Lay back. Just rest." Her soothing words were comforting. He had no idea that she sat and watched him sleep for an hour. He was totally oblivious to the click and flash of the camera.

Terri brought her camera to her bedroom and placed it on her dresser. Before she retired for the night, she needed to see the washcloth one more time. She again opened the strongbox and let her eyes settle on the rings and the cloth. She touched her lip, remembering a rare, almost tender, moment with her mother. She had just turned nine, and it was the first time her mother had hit her hard enough to draw blood. Terri's father had died the previous year, so there was nobody left to protect her from her mother's more frequent rages. When her mother saw the blood, she had fallen to her knees and tried to comfort her daughter and wipe away the blood. Terri had never seen her mother show affection to anyone except her father as he became increasingly ill. That was when she had begun to suspect.

Johnny woke up feeling shaky and dehydrated. His head pounded and his eyes burned. He drank a little water at the bathroom sink, and kept it down, which helped. The long shower felt even better. He heard Terri in the kitchen, and went to join her.

She smiled warmly at him. "You're looking better."

"I almost feel human again," he said, although he knew he was exaggerating. "I feel like I've got the worst hangover in history, without the fun of the party."

"Here, I made you some tea and toast. Feel up to it?"

"Don't suppose you have any Gatorade, do you?"

"No, but this tea might help you feel better. You need some fluids." She placed the cup of tea and the slice of dry toast in front of him.

"Yeah, thanks. That's really nice of you."

"Well, I need to look out for my favorite paramedic, you know?" She sat down next to him and sipped her coffee, gazing at him affectionately.

Terri's thoughtfulness amazed him. It had been many years since Johnny had had the luxury of someone to take care of him when he was sick. There was always his aunt, but, as a grown man, he wasn't about to call her every time he felt a little under the weather. Besides, she was getting older, and he never wanted to expose her to whatever bug he might have picked up. He could always count on Roy and Joanne if things got really out of hand, but he usually found himself treading the fine line between toughing it out and feeling a little sorry for himself. He found himself enjoying the attention and pampering that Terri tenderly bestowed. He added it to the growing bank of endearing qualities in the woman who was quickly working her way into his heart.

Roy watched Johnny fling his locker open to change into his uniform. "Well, how were your days off? Your date with Terri go better than the last one?"

"You are not going to believe this, Roy; you are not going to believe this. Terri invited me over to make me dinner, right? Then, we were going to go out to a movie. Dinner went great - she's a really good cook. Then, what did I do? I ended up in her bathroom, sick as a dog. The flu! The flu hit me right in the middle of our date. We never even made it to the movie. Can you believe it? I get punched on our first date, then I puke on our second date. Unbelievable. She's gonna start to think there's something really wrong with me."

Chet shook his head as he entered the locker room with his typical uncanny timing. "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny… you are making this too easy for me."

"Chet--" Johnny clenched his teeth.

This time, Roy tried to mediate. "Johnny's days off weren't too good. He got sick."

"Didn't you have another date with that Terri chick? I would have thought she would be the one getting sick."

Johnny slammed his locker, and headed to the day room. "You can just forget it, Chet. I'm not bitin'!"

Chet shouted after him, "Well, whatever you had, just don't give it to me!"

Roy joined Johnny at the coffee pot. "Sure you're up to drinking Chet's coffee?"

"I'm over it now, Roy. Just a 24-hour bug, I guess. Man, it was bad, though; I've never had stomach flu like that. I couldn't even keep water down."

"Almost sounds more like food poisoning, coming on that fast."

"I know. I wondered the same thing. But, Terri and I ate the same thing and she's fine. Man, I hope she doesn't get this thing."

Chet entered the dayroom and looked at the dregs in the coffee pot with distaste and started to make more. "She probably just poisoned you to get you out of her hair."

"If she wanted to poison me she could have just put eggshells in the coffee."

"Hey - that's an old family trick. It makes the grounds--"

"It's disgusting, Chet! Anyway, if she wanted me out of her hair, she wouldn't have insisted that I spend the night at her apartment, and then hung around my place, taking care of me." Johnny leaned back in the chair and sipped his coffee with a smug grin.

"Get real!"

"No, I'm serious. She felt so bad, she brought me home-made chicken soup and some tender-loving care."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Bet you loved that… your own private nurse, making a house call."

Johnny smiled and nodded. "You could say I did." _They don't need to know I felt like crap all day…_

Johnny counted the days until he could see Terri again, and he did what he could to speed them along. He talked with her on the phone at least once a day, and he spent much of his off time working on his deck. By Monday night it was finished. Johnny got out of the shower, dressed, and grabbed some chips and a well-earned beer. He flipped on the TV and got comfortable on the couch, waiting for Terri to arrive. They wouldn't be able to actually stand on the deck until the sealer dried, but at least he could show her before they tried one more time to go to a movie.

The phone rang. Terri sounded very upset.

"Johnny, I just got home from work to change, and someone has been in my apartment. My stuff's thrown all over. I'm really nervous. What if someone is still watching the place and--"

She knew she wouldn't have to ask him to come over. It was a given.

Johnny sat up straight, instantly very alert. "Go to a neighbor's and call the police. I'll be right there."

"Johnny, I really don't think--"

"Terri, listen to me. Hang up the phone and go to a neighbor's and call the police. I need to know you'll do that."

"Okay, Johnny. Just hurry, okay? I feel like someone's watching me or something."

"I'm on my way." He could feel his heart rate increase as he scooped up his keys and raced out the door. _If anyone lays a hand on her, so help me…._

Johnny looked up at the darkened windows of Terri's apartment on the second floor as he screeched into a parking place. He didn't see any police cars out front, which fueled his growing concern: he'd been driving twenty minutes. _They should be here by now._ He practically flew to the upper hall, taking the stairs two at a time, his adrenaline surging. He didn't know which neighbor she might have gone to. _Damn, why didn't I ask her which apartment she'd go to? Why isn't she coming out? Something's wrong. _Desperate to find her, he knocked urgently on her door.

No answer.

All he could hear was the muffled noise of a TV in another unit, and the sound of his own rapid breathing. He reminded himself to be cautious, but he had to know if she was okay. He tried the door, and the knob turned freely in his hand. Something definitely didn't feel right, and it sent up alarms in his mind, but he needed to check on her. He pushed the door open and peered inside warily. The light from the hallway partially illuminated the living room, revealing couch cushions and newspapers strewn across the floor. He stepped inside and quietly called her name. "Terri, you here?" As he turned to search for the light switch, something blunt slammed into the back of his head, and his body hit the wall and then fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Terri closed the front door silently, and then carefully placed the metal bar back into her coat closet. She turned on a small lamp and observed her handiwork. She kept her eyes glued on Johnny while she dialed the police and waited impatiently for the faceless person at the other end to answer.

She whispered urgently to add validity to her deception. "There's somebody breaking in to my apartment. Hurry! I can hear him. My boyfriend is on the way over here, but please hurry!" She made sure her voice carried an edge of panic as she gave them her address, then she hung up the phone. She knew she'd been quite convincing; but, then again, she had had lots of practice.

She stared at Johnny's still form, face down, on the carpet. She gently rolled him over onto his back so she could see his face. One arm rested across his chest. She liked the visual effects from the floor lamp, the play of light and shadows across his slack features as his chest rose and fell. She thought his dark hair created a pleasantly severe contrast against his unnaturally pale skin.

Chilling. He looked so defenseless. So vulnerable. Breath-taking.

Terri picked up her camera and shot pictures from three angles, taking care that Johnny's face showed in each one. She would be able to relive the experience later, when she developed the pictures. The images would slowly materialize in the chemicals, beneath the surreal darkroom light. These would go into the strongbox with the other most meaningful pieces of her life. She returned the camera to the kitchen table and sat down to watch Johnny slowly regain consciousness. The tingling sensation washed over her as she watched him breathe. She wanted to savor every single private, silent moment.

Johnny began to stir. First he was aware of a cool cloth on his forehead, and then he felt a soft hand caress his cheek. Someone held his hand. His head throbbed, and he bit his lip as he suppressed a moan. His eyes flickered open, and even the light from the single lamp seemed to drive daggers into his skull. Terri's face came into focus gradually as he squinted against the harsh light, but he was still disoriented. "Is Roy okay?" Johnny ventured automatically.

"Roy? Johnny, I was so worried. He could have killed you!"

"Huh? Terri? What happened?" Johnny took in his surroundings, propping himself up on one elbow and cautiously touching the back of his head. "What am I doing here?"

"The man in my apartment. Didn't you see him? God, this is all my fault!" Terri stared at him, her wide-eyed face wet from tears.

"What man, Terri? Did he hurt you?" Johnny struggled to sit up, but the flash of pain brought him back down to the floor. "Aw, man…" He held his head in his hands, and fought the nausea. He didn't want to throw up in her apartment again. He concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths and then moved the cooler side of the damp cloth to the back of his head. "Man, what is it with your apartment building?" He forced a weak smile and squeezed her hand. He thought he could feel her trembling slightly, and he tried again to sit up to reassure her. "I don't even remember coming here. The phone rang… What man? Did he--"

"No, no. Johnny, but you don't know how scared I was. I heard him rummaging around in the living room after I called you, so I locked myself in the bathroom. I was such a coward." More tears streamed down her face.

He reached up and gently wiped a tear from her face. "No, Terri, you did the right thing. Are you sure you're okay?" She found his concern for her very alluring. It was almost as intoxicating as seeing him injured, and almost as powerful. She could tell he was still in pain, but now she was the center of his attention. The feeling was such a rush; it was addictive.

She had to play this right. She used a hushed voice. "Somebody broke in! I saw him, Johnny. I've never seen him before," she lied. "He was taller than you, and a _lot_ heavier. Reddish, wavy hair, scruffy beard--"

Johnny recognized the description: _Goliath_. "Terri, that sounds like the guy from the alley! God, if he'd found you…" He shuddered, and pulled her closer. She liked the feel of his sheltering arms around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Johnny, you must have spooked him. When I think about what would have happened if you hadn't come…and what could have happened because you did...I..."

"Shh, shh, it's okay now," he said as he rubbed her back.

"It's _not okay_. He _hurt_ you!"

Johnny jumped slightly when he heard the knock at the door. Head pounding, he rose unsteadily. Terri grabbed his arm, but he protectively waved her back.

"Johnny, it's probably the police. I called them after I called you, just like you told me to."

"Let me get it. You stay back," he cautioned, wanting to be sure. Then, he heard the police officers identify themselves. He recognized the voices. _Devlin and Grant again. _He opened the door. "We've gotta quit meeting like this," Johnny said, trying to manage a smile. "You pull up back? I didn't see your lights this time."

Devlin nodded, taking in Johnny's bedraggled appearance. "Gage, you gotta be kiddin' me. What is it with you? You carry bad luck in your back pocket or something? We got a call that there was an intruder here. That wouldn't be you, would it?"

"Not hardly. But I guess I surprised him. I never saw him. He knocked me out cold, this time."

"This time?" The cop's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'This time'?"

"The guy from the alley."

Devlin shook his head. "You really got a way with people."

Johnny nodded. "It's that target I wear on my back," he countered, as he sank down slowly onto the couch and returned the cloth to the back of his head.

"If I remember right, kid, you wore the last target on your face. How many stitches did you end up with--four, five?"

Johnny half-smiled at the comeback. "Good one. Three."

The heavy-set cop patted Johnny on the shoulder and shook his head in sympathy. "You okay?"

"Peachy," Johnny grumbled back.

Johnny and Terri gave their statements to the two police officers. Johnny didn't have much to offer, except that the last thing he remembered was sitting on the couch at home relaxing, the phone ringing, and then waking up on the floor of Terri's apartment with a pounding headache. The fact that Terri's description of the man matched the man Johnny had described from the alley incident made it less likely that this was a random break-in. Dusting for prints would be pointless; Terri told them the man had been wearing gloves. Devlin asked Terri to go to the station the next day to look at pictures. Nothing obvious had been stolen, although some drawers were open and some pillows and papers had been tossed around. Johnny marveled at Terri's efforts to maintain her composure, under the circumstances. He knew she had to be scared. She sat very close to him on the couch, and clung to his arm.

Despite half-hearted protests from Johnny, Terri assured the officers that she would take him to the hospital to get checked out by a doctor. Johnny agreed, grudgingly, knowing that he probably did have a concussion. He found the gap in his memory very disconcerting. Part of him wanted to storm off into the night and find the guy responsible, but more of him just wanted to go home and lie down. Neither would happen any time soon. Terri gathered up her keys and purse as the two police officers departed.

Outside Terri's apartment, Devlin looked at his partner critically. "Did that seem a little strange to you in there?"

"Yeah, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Did you notice the fancy camera right on her kitchen table? You'd think the guy would have lifted it. What did he come here for, anyway? He went through some drawers, right? Didn't open any of her boxes, though. What was he looking for? Some guy supposedly breaks into her apartment, while she's gone. Then she calls Gage, right? Where is the guy when she makes the phone call? Why doesn't he attack her? She sees him, sees him right down to his brown leather gloves, but he doesn't see or hear her? Then, he whacks Gage and leaves. Is it just me, or does something not quite ring true about that little scenario?"

"It's not just you," Grant confirmed, shaking his head. "She called Gage, saying there was an intruder, right? And, Gage opened the door and stepped inside. Wouldn't you think she'd have locked the door right when she walked in, seeing her stuff thrown around?"

"You'd think so, yeah. Maybe she was too rattled to think straight, maybe he has a key, who knows?"

Grant looked at his partner as they began to descend the stairs. "You think maybe he's in on it?"

"Gage? I don't think he gave himself two black eyes and whacked himself on the back of the head, no."

Grant nodded. "Think we should say something to him?"

"What do we say? 'Gage, watch your back?'" Devlin shrugged. "We really have nothing to go on. The captain would laugh us right out of his office and say it's probably just some lover's quarrel or some stupid thing."

Grant nodded. "Yeah, and I'm sure he'd take the opportunity to remind us we're not really detectives."

Devlin rolled his eyes at the thought of another lecture from his captain. He knew they probably were reading more in to the situation than was really there. Regardless, somehow, he wasn't feeling jealous any more.

Rampart was a zoo. When Dr. Brackett finally had a chance to see Johnny, the exam confirmed that he had sustained a mild concussion. Although the doctor would have preferred for Johnny to stay the night at Rampart for observation, the hospital was so packed from a gang fight and multiple-vehicle accident that he had no idea when they would actually have a bed for him. Since Terri was a nurse and she promised to keep a close eye on Johnny all night, Dr. Brackett reluctantly allowed Johnny to leave after several hours. "I want neuro checks every two hours, and absolutely no pain medication. If you have even the slightest concern, you bring him right back here."

"I'll take good care of him, Dr. Brackett," Terri assured.

"Please see that you do," he said, gruffly. Then, with a gentler tone and a very tired smile, he added, "He can be a very demanding patient. Believe me."

Terri told Johnny she was afraid to return to her apartment, so she drove the two of them to his house. Every two hours, all night long, she woke him up and checked his mental status. "Do you know what day it is? Do you know where you are? What's your name?" She dutifully checked the evenness of the strength in both his hands, and checked his pupils for reactivity and equality. Johnny admired and respected her dedication, but the wake-up calls lost their charm at about 4 a.m.

In the morning, Terri agreed to go to work only after Johnny promised to call Roy and spend the day with him until she returned.

"Roy? Yeah, it's Johnny. Um…you have any plans for today?"

"Just working around the house, why?"

"Well, I kinda had a little problem last night, and I had to promise Dr. Brackett and Terri that I wouldn't be alone today. Terri has tomorrow off, but she had to work today, and I--"

"Dr. Brackett? What happened? Are you okay?"

"It's a long story, and I'll tell you more later, but basically, Terri had a break-in, and I guess I kinda surprised the guy. I've got a mild concussion -- it's no big deal."

"Johnny, why aren't you at the hospital?"

"They didn't have any beds and Terri told Brackett she'd watch me all night. And, she did, too, believe me. The whole nine yards, every two hours. Listen, I'll tell you more later. Any chance you could take me over to Terri's some time today to get my truck? She lives over at the Edgewater, close to Rampart. I wasn't up to driving last night."

"I'll bet. Johnny, you shouldn't be driving any today at all. Let me bring you here. If you're feeling okay this evening, we'll go get your truck. Okay?"

"Good deal. Hey, thanks, Roy. I feel pretty stupid needing to ask you to baby-sit me. But, I do appreciate it."

Roy laughed understandingly. "Well, don't thank me yet. Jenny's on a Barbie doll kick, and I'm sure she'll want you to be Ken."

Johnny moaned good-naturedly. "As long as I don't have to be Midge, like last time. Her legs don't even bend. See ya soon."

As Johnny got out of Roy's car, Roy adeptly intercepted his daughter just as she started to greet Johnny with her customary flying tackle. "Uncle Johnny's got a bad headache, sweetheart," Roy told her, "so you know what that means?"

"What, Daddy?" She squealed as Roy threw her up over his shoulder.

"It means _I_ get to carry you into the house like a sack of potatoes today, not him!"

"Uncle Johnny! Save me!" Jenny waved her hands and feet wildly.

Johnny grabbed at Jenny's hands, pretending to "save" her from Roy while they walked into the house.

Jenny sat next to Johnny and finished her cereal while Joanne poured coffee. Johnny promised to play Barbies when he finished talking with her daddy, so she ran to her room to get everything set up. "You're Ken!" she shouted from the back of the house.

"Okay, Jen," he yelled back. The two men moved to the front porch to ensure that Jenny wouldn't overhear them, and Johnny finished giving Roy the details of the night before. Neither one of them wanted Jenny to hear of the assault on "Uncle Johnny," whom she adored.

"Terri's trying to act tough, Roy, but I can tell she's really scared this guy might come back. It's a pretty big coincidence that the same guy from the alley all the sudden shows up in her apartment. Sounds almost like he's been watching her for a while. Man, I'd like to get my hands on that guy…" He laughed sardonically, remembering the guy's size. "Make that a baseball bat. I better give Terri a call soon to let her know I'm at your place, or she'll panic when I don't answer the phone. She's really something, Roy. I'll see if she can swing by your place and pick me up when she gets off work. She's going to need to get some of her stuff from her apartment, anyway, and I don't want her going there alone until that jerk's behind bars." Johnny's face took on a more solemn expression. "I don't get it, Roy. What makes a person single somebody out like that?"

Roy considered the question. "Control, I guess. Power? I don't know. Some sort of mental problem, maybe."

"Yeah… Listen, I don't want Joanne thinking Terri's 'moving in' with me. She's just too scared to go back to her own apartment, and I can't blame her. Her parents have both passed away, and she doesn't have any family in the area. She's only been in town for a couple months and doesn't really feel she can ask anyone else. It's just until she can find a different apartment. That place just isn't safe."

"Yeah, I see your point. Don't worry about Joanne. This is the 70's, you know. What do the cops say about all this?"

"Devlin and Grant? They couldn't tell us anything. They're going to put out a description of him and all that, but they basically told us not to hold our breath. Oh, yeah, Terri needs to go look at pictures and see if she can recognize him. Maybe she'll have better luck than I did. I told her I'd go with her so I could have another crack at it. We're going to do that after she gets off work." Johnny sat quietly a minute, then added, " I'll tell you who we need. We need Reed and Malloy. They'd have this solved in one hour," Johnny joked.

"Nah, this one would be a two-parter," Roy chuckled.

"You know, they're the me and you of the police force."

"Let me guess: You're Reed and I'm Malloy."

"You got that right, Pally."

Roy snorted. "I'm not as old as Malloy!"

"And I'm better lookin' than Reed, but you don't see them makin' a TV show about us."

"No, I guess not," Roy conceded.

"Smarter, too," Johnny added.

"Don't push it, Junior."

Despite their joking around, something still didn't sit quite right with Roy, but he couldn't put words to the vague thoughts. He almost felt guilty for feeling a little uneasy about Terri. She seemed nice enough, and he really had no reason to feel the way he did. Maybe he was just worried. He wanted Joanne to see Johnny with Terri. She could be very intuitive.

"Say, Officer Gage, why don't you and Terri come back here for dinner tonight after you go to the police station? Then, you two can just relax later?"

"You sure Joanne won't mind?"

"Nah, she already mentioned it, actually."

"Sounds good, Roy. Thanks. I'll go call Terri."

Johnny played right in to Terri's hand. She told him that she had to work an hour longer than she had thought, but that dinner at Roy's would be great. That gave her time to return to her own apartment to plan the next phase of her dangerously escalating game. Johnny really was perfect for his role: handsome, heroic, adored, trusting; and, now, Terri had access to his house.

She looked longingly at her camera sitting on the kitchen table. She glanced at her watch and knew she didn't have time to develop the film that waited for her. She reluctantly turned her back on the camera, and walked to her bedroom for her strongbox.

Terri lightly fingered the choices in her deadly arsenal. The drugs gave her power over life and death. She needed something slow, and able to produce a variety of symptoms. The beauty of poison was that normally innocuous chemicals could be parceled out in customized doses or combinations. Drugs could either accumulate over time, or be given in larger doses to accentuate the symptoms she wanted to produce. But, there had to be an antidote. Comforting him while he recovered, nursing him back to health -- that was half the thrill. The other source of gratification came from the medical staff. Their compassion for the distraught and dedicated girlfriend would be so ironic.

She wanted something with a little elegance, to show her superiority over the so-called experts. Something subtle at first, that Johnny and his "medical" friends might even confuse with after-effects of his concussion. Something to dull his senses a little. Cloud his mind. Confuse him. She smiled at her choice: secobarbitol. She wanted to watch his symptoms unfold slowly before her eyes. She imagined that he would want her near as he gradually became more incapacitated, succumbing to her carefully orchestrated manipulation. And, not only would the drug have sedating effects, but it would also cause dizziness, headache, clumsiness and confusion. Given in small doses over time, it could also increase his sensation of pain. This would lay the physiological groundwork for the next stages, making him less likely to suspect a thing.

After Johnny and Terri left for the night, and the kids went to bed, Roy was eager to talk to Joanne about her impression of Terri. They had had a fun evening, but he could tell Joanne had definitely been sizing up Terri, and he had sensed that Joanne's guard was up slightly. As well as he knew her, he wasn't sure exactly how to interpret her signals when it came to Johnny's girlfriends.

"Well?" he ventured.

"Well," Joanne began, "she certainly is… tactile."

"Tactile? What do you mean, tactile?"

"She couldn't keep her hands off him. Don't tell me you didn't notice!"

Roy shrugged, trying to keep the smirk off his face. "Johnny didn't seem to mind."

"No, he didn't," she agreed, not sure whether to be amused or irritated with her husband's response. "It just seems a little soon for her to be so… I don't know…so…" Joanne blushed.

"So tactile," Roy offered.

"Exactly."

"Well, they've been through a lot together. They've had more happen to them than most people after only dating a month."

"Not a month. Three weeks. Doesn't that seem a little strange, too?"

"What's that?" Roy didn't want to ask any leading questions. He wanted Joanne's' own "take" on the situation.

"All they've been through. I mean, they meet when Johnny's in the hospital, then he gets punched in the face on the first date, then… let's see, the flu when it isn't flu season, then he gets attacked in her apartment. It just seems a little odd, that's all."

"You don't like her?" There. He'd asked.

"I didn't say that. What's not to like? She practically perfect, right?"

"Yeah. Right." So Joanne sensed something, too. Something was out of place.

Terri heard Johnny upstairs in the shower, so she poured his coffee into a white mug, to camouflage any residue that might remain in the cup. She carefully emptied the contents of the small capsule into the hot drink and stirred it slowly. The tiny granules swirled in the cup and disappeared, the taste virtually undetectable.

Together, they checked the classified ads over a light breakfast, then they headed out to search for a new apartment for Terri. During lunch at a small diner, Terri surprised Johnny with a milkshake when he returned from the men's room. By late afternoon, Terri had not found an apartment she liked, despite two that Johnny had said might be ideal. Terri commented that Johnny looked worn out, and she suggested that they call it a day.

Johnny lay on the couch and dozed while Terri made dinner. This had been such a familiar scene during her childhood, after her father had become ill. Mother would spend hours in the kitchen while Daddy rested in the living room. She served up the food in the kitchen, confident that the spiciness off the spaghetti sauce would hide the presence of the special additive. By evening, Johnny was thoroughly exhausted, and he fell asleep slumped against Terri's shoulder while they were watching TV. She eased herself out from under him and covered him with a blanket. She kissed him lightly and fantasized about the days to come.

The secobarbitol had been building up in his system for 24 hours now, but she wanted it to build up further before adding the other drugs. She wanted his symptoms waved in front of Rampart's staff, and then dismissed as nothing serious. Unless she guessed wrong, a couple of shifts with Roy observing his growing fatigue and headache would land him in the Emergency Department for an exam. That would be her cue to begin the next phase. She knew that the build-up of barbiturates might decrease the effect of the blood thinners she would soon start. She thought two doses of the coumarin ought to work, if combined with a large dose of aspirin on the day she wished to literally bring him to his knees. Then, she would have him where she wanted him. It would send him to the hospital, where she could save his life in front of all of them. She brushed the hair off his face, tucked the blanket neatly under him, and turned off the light. She stared at the moonlight streaming across his face, then headed for bed.

Johnny had always prided himself on rising early without an alarm clock, but he was sound asleep long after the time he normally woke up. Terri went in and woke him as she prepared to leave for work. His grogginess confirmed to her that the drug was building up in his system as planned. Johnny thanked Terri profusely, and he headed to the shower, hoping it would help him wake up more.

"I'm going to grab coffee at the hospital, but I put on a pot of coffee for you," she told him, sounding considerate.

"Thanks, Terri," he shouted from the shower. "I really owe you one. If you hadn't been here, I might still be sleeping. I really need that coffee."

"No problem. Hey, want me to put this in a thermos and put on another pot before I leave? You can take it with you."

"Sounds great. I won't need to fight Chet for the last cup again. Thanks."

"See you later, Johnny." She filled the thermos and looked into the small bottle she held. Only a few more capsules left. Feeling invigorated, she headed off to work with a smile.

At the station, Roy noticed his partner's tired appearance as he straggled in with just minutes to get changed. Roy kidded him gently. "Looks like you had a late night."

"No… I wish. I was so beat I didn't even make it upstairs. Who'd have thought apartment hunting would be so tiring? I slept like a log, and I'm _still_ tired." He rubbed his eyes and finally resorted to splashing some cold water on his face to wake up. "Man, I feel like a slug. I just can't seem to get going this morning. I got smart, though. I brought in my own thermos of coffee so I'll be sure to get my share. It's in the truck, if you get desperate; just don't tell Chet. I'm sure gonna need it today." He changed into his uniform as quickly as he could and went in to line up.

After roll call, Johnny and Roy got their assignments for the day and started their usual chores in the dayroom. Chet headed for the supply closet to begin Day 11 of cleaning the latrine. He couldn't help but overhear the conversation between the two paramedics.

"Roy, Terri's putting up a brave front, but this break-in has really shaken her up. Even staying at my place, I'm sure she doesn't feel totally safe. We looked for an apartment for her all day, and she didn't like any of them. I think she's just afraid to get her own place again, after what happened." Johnny slammed his hand down on the counter in frustration. "I feel so bad for her. I hate knowing she'll be there alone some nights, like tonight. At least after tomorrow we'll get to have a day together. I tell you, Roy, if I catch that creep.... I need to find this guy." Johnny rubbed his temples to ease his lingering headache.

"Just be careful, will you?"

With exaggerated innocence, Johnny placed his hand on his chest. "Hey, it's me."

"Yeah. I know." Roy shook his head. His feeling of uneasiness was developing into something more.

Chet had been listening to the exchange and couldn't stay out of it any longer. "What are you guys talking about?" He set his bucket down.

Chet listened in wonder as Johnny quickly filled him in. Captain Stanley stopped at the coffeepot and listened, too.

Chet began to share Johnny's anger. "I'll tell you what we need to do. We need to stake out her apartment is what we need to do. He's gone there twice already, right?"

Johnny nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah. Yeah, that's a great idea Chet."

As Chet and Johnny continued their plan of attack, the voice of reason spoke from near the stove.

"Maybe you should give the police a few more days," the captain suggested.

"Why, Cap?" Johnny asked, his frustration evident. "The police haven't found a thing. And I don't really think they expect to. _I_ can recognize the guy, not the cops."

"Why? Two black eyes, uh, three stitches, a concussion, and two trips to Rampart, for starters! What are you gonna do if you do find him?"

Roy nodded toward Hank. "He's right, guys, this is a little out of our league."

"I'll give it a couple more days, I guess," Johnny conceded as he resumed wiping down the counters.

The shift was fairly routine, but Johnny found himself having to really concentrate on things that usually came almost automatically. During rescues, he moved a little slower and more deliberately, and during their down time, he was less animated. By mid-afternoon he was really dragging. As he and Roy entered the kitchen, Johnny headed straight for the coffeepot again, hoping for a little caffeine boost to get him through the evening.

He shrugged at the empty pot. "Figures," he muttered. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. Ha!" He walked out to his truck and brought in his thermos. "My own private stash. Compliments of Terri, I might add. That woman is amazing. She thinks of everything." As he opened the lid, a small folded piece of flowered paper fell to the floor. As Johnny bent down to pick it up, Chet swooped in and grabbed the note, dodging Johnny's attempts to recover it.

Keeping his back to the agitated paramedic, Chet raised his voice to a falsetto pitch and began to read aloud. "Just a little reminder that I'll be thinking about you all day. Thank you so much for--"

"Give me that!" Johnny jerked the note out of Chet's hand.

"Oh, Johnny! I never knew you cared!" Chet mocked him.

"Damn you, Kelly. You're just jealous." Johnny said as he placed the note in his pocket until he could read it in private. He poured himself a big cup of the moderately hot coffee and sat down to drink it while they had some down time, inwardly quite pleased with the sweet note Terri had left him.

"I don't know, Johnny," Chet continued, "it's usually pretty serious when they start leavin' love notes in your thermos. You're startin' to worry me."

After dinner, Johnny stood up to take his plate to the sink, and he felt light-headed and started to sway. Roy watched from across the table, his fork poised in mid air, as Mike grabbed Johnny's elbow and eased him back onto his chair.

"You okay, Johnny?"

"Fine, Mike… guess I got up too fast."

"Have you been back to see Brackett since your concussion?" Roy asked casually, trying to mask his concern. He had been watching Johnny carefully. "You've been pretty tired lately. Any nausea? Blurred vision?"

"No, I'm just bushed," Johnny replied sharply. He rubbed his temples again, trying to rid himself of the headache that had been plaguing him all shift. "Will you guys just back off a little? I'm not dying or anything here. I just got up too fast." His annoyed tone of voice caught his crewmates off guard.

Captain Stanley had observed Johnny's lack of energy throughout the shift. "Why don't you hit the sack early tonight, John?"

"Fine." Johnny gestured to the rest of the men at the table, adding, "If it'll get these guys to off my back, I'll be happy to." He stood up slowly and shoved his chair back. "A guy can't even have an off day around here without somebody makin' a big deal out of it." He headed to the dorm without another word.

Chet snorted. "Who was that guy? You guys have a rough run I didn't hear about?"

The rest of the crew looked to Roy for an explanation. Roy just stared toward the dorm. Maybe it was just the stress over worrying about Terri. He knew Johnny wouldn't sleep well until that guy who had broken into Terri's apartment had been arrested, despite what he said. Maybe he was getting sick again. Maybe he just plain had a bad day. A couple days off would probably do him good. Roy hoped this didn't have anything to do with the concussion, but he would be sure to keep his eye on his friend, just in case.

The klaxons sounded during the night, and all of the men automatically started pulling on their turnouts. "Engine 51, dumpster fire…" Roy breathed a sigh of relief that the squad hadn't been called out, too. He lay back down to resume his sleep. He saw Johnny pull his suspender straps up, steady himself, then take a deep breath and head toward the door.

"Hold on, Johnny. What are you doing?"

Johnny stopped and looked at Roy as if he were speaking another language. He opened and closed his eyes slowly and deliberately, trying to rid himself of the slight dizziness. He took a step and looked around, confused. "Where's the damn pole?"

"The what? What are you doing? The call was just for the engine. You can go back to bed."

"Huh? I'm a rescue man," he said in a daze.

"A rescue man? Johnny, go back to sleep. We weren't called out."

"We weren't?" He sat down on his bunk, rubbing his forehead.

Roy propped himself up on one elbow and watched his friend. "You okay, Johnny?"

"Just a headache. Man, am I looking forward to two days at home."

After work, Terri returned to her own apartment and eagerly began to set up her darkroom to transform her precious film into negatives. She methodically laid out the trays and tongs and poured the chemicals. Under the unnatural lighting and fumes of the darkroom, she watched the almost ghost-like images of Johnny's antithesis surface on the negatives. While they dried, she packed her other belongings into boxes and stacked them near the front door. She gazed fondly again at the picture beside her bed, and reluctantly placed it into her strongbox. Before heading to Johnny's house for the remainder of the night, Terri checked her negatives one last time, a quick "fix" to get her through the night.

By morning, Johnny wasn't quite as groggy as he had been during the night, but he still felt like he had been up all night. He had never been so glad to see B-shift arrive.

Captain Stanley patted him on the back as he left for home. "Get some rest, okay, pal?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Cap."

As Johnny headed out slowly to his truck, Roy called after him. "I'll see you in about an hour."

Johnny waved to acknowledge him.

Roy saw the concerned look on his captain's face as Johnny pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm going over to his place to help him dig a few post holes for his fence. If he doesn't liven up this morning, I'll drive him to Rampart myself."

Hank smiled and nodded. "You mind coming to my office for a minute?"

Roy followed him to the office and sat down as Hank shut the door.

"Something the matter, Cap?"

"I'm just Hank right now, not your captain."

"Okay." He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"What's going on with Johnny?"

"What do you mean, Cap?"

"I've just got a funny feeling, that's all. He has had one mishap after another since he met that gal. He's just not himself."

"You mean Terri? I have a funny feeling about all this too, Cap, but as far as anyone can tell, she's the perfect nurse, the perfect girlfriend, and if you've seen her, well..."

"Yeah, so I've heard. Gage usually has good taste in that arena. But, he's been a mess since the day he met her. Just keep an eye on him, will ya? Don't let him do anything stupid, okay? And, get him away from Chet for Pete's sake! Seeing those two plotting together gives me the willies."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Roy was surprised that Johnny wasn't already outside working when he pulled into his driveway. He knocked on the door and waited, peering in through the kitchen window to the dark house. Johnny eventually answered the door, blinking hard and squinting at the bright light outside. "Man, I'm really sorry, Roy. I sat down for just a minute, and I fell asleep. I was really out of it." Johnny sank back down onto his couch and gestured toward the kitchen. "I'd offer you coffee, but I already drank what Terri left. Want me to make some more? I know I'm gonna need it."

"Johnny, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you look like hell. Are you still dizzy?"

"A little when I just got up, but--"

"Come on. Get in my car," Roy said sternly. Enough was enough. Johnny was going to the hospital.

"Roy, I really don't think--"

"I know you don't think," Roy interrupted, "but lucky for you, I do. Now, you come with me, or I'm calling it in and you can go by ambulance. You had a concussion a few days ago, and you're experiencing dizziness, headache, irritability, and drowsiness. Not to mention your little time warp last night. You've been dancing around this for two days, and you need a recheck. I should have dragged you there last night."

Johnny knew Roy's "firm" voice by now. He seldom used it, but when he did, there was little room for argument. "Yeah, I know. Okay. Let's get it over with. I hope Terri doesn't flip out when she sees me there, though. She worries about me, you know."

"Yeah, well, she has good reason to, with the way things have been going lately."

Dr. Brackett saw Johnny as quickly as he could. He entered the treatment room with a curious look on his face, wondering what on earth Johnny had done this time. "What brings you in today, Johnny?" he asked, taking in the man's tired appearance and the apprehension so evident on Roy's face.

Johnny fidgeted slightly. "I don't know. Mostly just tired, I guess, dizzy a few times, headache. No nausea, no blurred vision." Dr. Brackett checked Johnny's pupils while Roy added to the list of symptoms.

"Confused,"

"Roy… I have not--"

"Irritable," Roy interrupted, taking a step closer to the examination table.

"Roy--" Johnny protested half-heartedly.

"Take my word for it, Doc. Irritable," Roy asserted. "You can ask anyone from our shift."

Johnny shot him a piercing look.

Dr. Brackett looked at Roy, and saw the man wasn't joking. "Well, Johnny, just lay back and relax for a while. We need a little more information." He ordered a skull series, electrolytes and CBC. "We'll know more in a while."

When the tests all came back negative, Johnny offered his own opinion. "See? I'm just a little run down. Nothing that a couple days off won't take care of, right?"

Dr. Brackett advised, "I suppose it depends on what you do on your days off. I suggest you follow your own advice, and take it easy and let your body rest up. You've been through a lot in the last few weeks."

"And, you don't even know about his flu," Roy added.

"Flu?" Dr. Brackett repeated, sounding surprised.

"A 24-hour bug. No big deal." Johnny began to sound more defensive. "Listen, can I go now?"

Dr. Brackett smirked and looked at Roy. "I see what you mean about irritable."

Roy shook his head in exasperation. "Johnny, if I remember right, your words were something like, 'I've never had such a bad case of flu in my life.'"

"Yeah, well…sometimes I exaggerate." Johnny stood up and straightened his clothes.

In an uncharacteristic, almost fatherly, gesture, Dr. Brackett took Johnny by the shoulders. "Ever hear of exhaustion? You are in a high-stress, physically demanding job, in the best of circumstances. Now, I know it'll be hard, but I want you to place yourself on 'light duty' at home today and tomorrow, and let your body finish its repairs. Clear?"

"Clear."

"Guess those post holes will have to wait, Johnny," Roy said with relief.

"Yeah, and I can tell you're really broken up about it."

Roy dropped Johnny off at his house, and then headed home, feeling somewhat reassured by the test results. Johnny had promised to hold off on any hard labor for a few more days, and Roy looked forward to spending a rare weekend at home with his family.


	2. Chapter 2

**Light and Shadows Part 2:**

From Johnny's point of view, the two days off were uneventful and somewhat boring, even with Terri's company much of the time. He found it easy to keep his promise to Dr. Brackett and Roy about taking it easy: he was too tired to do much of anything, but not tired enough to sleep all day. Eventually he concluded that something had to be wrong with him, despite Dr. Brackett's test results. To Terri, the days with Johnny made a fascinating case study. She observed him become progressively more sluggish, tired, and irritable. She watched him try to shake off his fatigue with activity, to no avail.

Sunday evening, she watched him from a distance as he headed out to the barn to check on his horses. She stayed out of sight as he climbed up the ladder to the loft and tossed down a bail of hay. She smiled privately when he was apparently hit with a wave of dizziness as he started to descend. She stared as he closed his eyes. She didn't move to help as he overbalanced and fell the last few feet. He landed hard on his shoulder and scraped his arm on the currycomb sticking out of the tack box on the floor of the barn. Terri felt her own jolt as Johnny's pain flashed across his face. She quietly returned to the house as he cursed his clumsiness.

Dammit. What's the matter with you, Gage? He finally faced the fact that he probably was getting sick again, and the thought irritated him. Everything aggravated him. _Why didn't Brackett figure out what's wrong with me? _He was mad that he hadn't put the tack box farther from the ladder. _Stupid place for a tack box. Stupid to leave the currycomb sticking up. Stupid to fall off a damn ladder in my own damn barn._ His horses nickered at the promise of the sweet-smelling hay. Their adoration helped soften his mood slightly, and he rubbed their soft velvety noses tenderly. _Stupid horses._ He gave them each an extra handful of oats and a kiss before he left the barn.

He walked slowly and carefully to the house, rubbing his shoulder. Terri ran up to him, looking shocked. "Johnny what happened? Come into the kitchen. Let me take a look."

"I fell. Can you believe it? I fell off the damn ladder. I've laid around doing nothing for two days, and I'm still so tired I fell. Maybe there _is_ something wrong with me. God, Terri, I ache all over. This shouldn't hurt this much; I get banged up all the time at work and it doesn't hurt like this."

Terri gently held him in her arms and spoke soothing words. "It's not your fault. It was just a silly accident. This could happen to anyone, Johnny. Listen, if I didn't trust Dr. Brackett, I'd take you back to Rampart myself for a second opinion. But, he did all those tests, right?" She tried to placate him. She couldn't have him running back to the hospital just yet.

"Yeah, I'm just overreacting. That's just it. I'm overreacting to everything. I've been so mad sometimes lately I think I'll explode. I don't know how you can stand to be around me. _I_ can't even stand to be around me. Roy's probably ready for a new partner. Terri, I'm sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. Right now I just want to go to bed and sleep."

Terri gently cleaned up his arm and placed some bandages on his scrapes. "You just go lay down on the couch and I'll make you a little dinner, then you can take a hot bath and go to bed. Sound good? I'll even give you a massage. Okay?"

Johnny looked at the amazing woman who had somehow come into his life. He pulled her close. "What would I do without you?"

During dinner, Johnny got another small dose of the barbiturates, and he got his first dose of the anticoagulant she had successfully smuggled out of the hospital. It was all so easy, really, when one knew the system. The real excitement would start tomorrow, with the second dose of coumarin and a large dose of aspirin. She would be able to mask the bitter taste of the drugs in something sweet; something he wouldn't be able to resist. He would start to bleed internally, especially if he got bumped. She would play the part of the distraught girlfriend so well, struggling to save her beloved Johnny.

And it would all happen right in front of the medical experts. The experts who had kept her from becoming a doctor.

Terri woke up very early. She crept down the stairs and into the kitchen, although she knew Johnny would be sleeping soundly until she roused him. She mixed the dough thoroughly and began to knead it, her eyes wandering to the pills she had laid out on the counter. She rolled the dough out flat and brushed on the melted butter. The kitchen began to warm up as the oven preheated. Terri ground the aspirin and coumarin to a fine powder before mixing it with the dark brown sugar. She spread the potent mixture evenly on the smooth white dough before sprinkling the strong cinnamon on top. She rolled and cut the cinnamon rolls, then ceremoniously placed them on the baking sheet. They had to be perfect.

Terri awakened Johnny with a kiss, and whispered in his ear, "I made you something special." Then, she left for work, knowing she would see him in the afternoon. Johnny smiled as the pleasantly domestic smell of homemade cinnamon rolls wafted into the room, mingling with the scent of Terri's perfume.

Johnny's drive to work had never seemed longer. Someone even honked at him while he sat through a green light. The extra cup of coffee Johnny had downed on the way out the door that morning did little to clear the cobwebs in his mind. He wondered in passing if Terri had switched to decaf and hadn't told him. _Maybe the coffee in the thermos is stronger. _

_7:45 a.m._

Johnny stiffly removed his shirt and started to put on his uniform. Marco noticed the ugly purple bruise covering much of Johnny's shoulder. "Johnny, that's some bruise you got there. What happened?"

"I fell." He looked at the bandage on his forearm. "Got my arm pretty good too. Didn't need any stitches, though. Hope your days off were better than mine." He gingerly put his arm in his sleeve and fumbled with the buttons.

"What'd ya do, Gage, trip over your feet?"

Johnny stopped buttoning his shirt and stared at Chet tiredly. "Yeah, Chet, that's what I did. I tripped over my own feet. There. You happy?" He slammed his locker and left the locker room, his shirt still untucked in the back.

"Well, how do ya like that?" Chet looked incredulous. "That wasn't any fun. He just rolled right over."

Marco finished buttoning his shirt. "I don't know, Chet, but you might just want to take it easy on Johnny today."

"He probably did trip over his feet. That's why it struck a nerve."

Marco closed his locker. "Whatever. Just do us all a favor and give him some space, okay?"

"Hmph," Chet muttered. "People need to lighten up around here."

_9:00 a.m._

Johnny found he could not concentrate. He thought the sugar in those wonderful cinnamon rolls Terri had made for him would have helped rouse him, but he felt himself being dragged further and further down. If he could just lay down for a few--

"Gage, am I boring you?" Johnny's head snapped up. All eyes were on him, with Captain Stanley's eyes the most piercing. _If looks could kill._

"Huh? Uh, no, Cap. Sorry. Can't seem to wake up this morning."

"Well, I'm sure I can find something to wake you up as soon as we're done here." Cap noticed that his little barb got no reaction from the unusually lethargic man. He gained brief eye contact with Roy before continuing, but Roy looked as uneasy as he felt.

_10:00 a.m._

Captain Stanley decided to spare Johnny the "latrine-with-a-toothbrush" detail, a punishment which had crossed his mind when he first caught the man nodding off during his summary of the latest protocol changes. Despite what Roy had told him about the tests that Dr. Brackett had run on Saturday, Hank still felt there might be something physical behind the changes in Johnny's energy level. Johnny had snapped at everyone within the first five minutes of the day, and they were all now giving him a wide berth.

Johnny went through the motions of mopping the dayroom with effort. He fumbled with the mop and pail. He was irritated with how long it took him to do the simplest things. He just wanted this shift to be over, and it had barely started. He tried not to watch the time.

Terri, on the other hand, watched the clock closely, entertaining herself by guessing the combination of symptoms Johnny would be experiencing. She knew he would be actively fighting the increasing drowsiness, that he'd be a little more uncoordinated, probably slightly confused. The internal bleeding from the coumarin would start soon, especially if he got jostled. With his line of work, that was practically a given. She regretted not being able to witness his eventual downfall, but she knew she'd see him soon. The bleeding would accelerate dramatically after lunch, when the large aspirin dose would kick in. She basked in the assurance that she would be seeing Johnny later, and would join him on center stage.

_10:45 a.m._

Johnny swallowed a couple aspirin to help ease his headache and the soreness in his shoulder. He headed to the coffeepot and saw that it was empty, but he had neither the energy nor the inclination to make a new pot. Instead, he stepped outside, hoping that some fresh air would help him shake off the sluggishness and nausea that were steadily dragging him down. If he had been thinking more clearly, he would have known to go home. And, if he hadn't been so grouchy, his friends might have stayed around him long enough to discover how sick he really was. Chet and Marco were playing two-on-two basketball against Roy and Mike in the back parking lot, Captain Stanley leaning against the brick building watching.

"Hey, Gage! Think fast!" Chet flung the ball to Johnny.

The ball caught Johnny in the mid-chest before Chet's words even registered in his clouded brain. He fell back into Captain Stanley with an audible, "Ugh!"

"Whoa, there." The captain helped Johnny straighten back up and clapped him on the shoulder for encouragement. "This just isn't turning out to be your day, is it, Pal?"

Roy hadn't seen the pain on Johnny's face when the ball hit, but he did notice him wince when Cap whacked him on the shoulder. He was beginning to think Johnny was feeling more than just a headache and fatigue.

Chet trotted over after the ball. "Sorry, man, you okay?"

Johnny's voice conveyed his level of irritation. "Jeez, Chet, do you think you could have thrown it a little harder? I'm not a damn bowling pin!"

Chet smirked, seeing that Johnny was okay. "I told you to think fast! Guess I forgot who I was talking to!" He grabbed the ball and passed it to Marco, who successfully completed a lay-up as Johnny walked to his truck to get his thermos of coffee. It seemed easier than making a new pot, and he really needed something. With a final glower at Chet, he returned to the day room to sit down and hope for the caffeine to offset his almost overwhelming fatigue.

_1:25 p.m._

Roy drove the squad back to the station. Johnny's unnatural silence and lack of movement had been making him uneasy, and he kept glancing over at his partner.

Johnny leaned his head back in the squad and closed his eyes, resting. All his joints ached, along with his head. The aspirin he had taken for the pain had done nothing to help, and now he was beginning to feel queasier. _Man, I cannot be getting the flu again._ "Roy, do you hear a ringing sound?"

Roy thought Johnny seemed to be breathing fast. "A ringing sound? No…" He turned to his partner, who was beginning to look flushed. "I know I keep asking you this, but are you sure you're okay?"

"Huh?" The ringing in Johnny's ears was becoming a real distraction. His head was starting to spin, and he was definitely nauseated. "Man, it's hot in here. I need some air. Maybe some water. I'm really thirsty." He rolled his window down.

"Maybe you should head home." Roy noticed the perspiration now forming on Johnny's face.

"Home? Yeah, maybe… I'm not sure I'm up to this run. What was it again?" Johnny looked around, puzzled to see they were pulling in to the station. "What are you doin'? Why are we back here? Roy, we got a call. I've got the slip right here." He searched for the piece of paper.

Roy looked at his confused partner with mounting concern, shifting the squad into Park. "What are you talking about Johnny? It was a false alarm. We just got called back. Remember?"

Johnny looked at Roy as if to make sure he'd heard him right. "Called back? Are you sure?" He was certain he would have remembered that. He began to breathe harder, and he rubbed his chest. "Roy, I don't feel so good."

"You don't look so good either," Roy agreed. "Let's get you inside."

"What's happening, Roy? I feel really weird. I think I'm tastin' blood."

Roy felt his own pulse quicken as he opened his door. "I don't know, Johnny. Come on, let's check you out. Wait for me to come around." Roy hurried in front of the squad to the other side of the vehicle. He saw Johnny start to fumble with his door. "Johnny, wait--"

Johnny didn't seem to hear Roy as he started to get out of the squad, and he was hit with a wave of vertigo. His cheek slammed against the door as he tried to grab onto something to help steady him in the spinning room. Arm flailing, he fell to the floor. He cried out in pain and confusion as he writhed on the cold floor, unable to sit up.

"Cap, I need a hand here!" The urgency in Roy's voice brought the whole crew running.

Johnny heard voices, but he couldn't answer. His throat burned. His chest felt tight, and he found it increasingly hard to catch his breath. He could taste the blood in his mouth, but couldn't make sense of his surroundings. He saw the blur of familiar faces in front of him, and felt himself lifted up and carried. He struggled to hear over the ringing in his ears and the rushing sound that threatened to overtake him. He made out Chet's voice through the haze.

"Roy, where's this blood coming from?" The light bandage on Johnny's arm had become saturated with blood, and it had smeared on Chet's light blue shirt.

Captain Stanley called in the Code I, and requested an ambulance. "Ambulance is on the way, Roy."

"Mike, get Rampart on the horn." Chet and Marco were already bringing in the gear from the squad.

Mike ran to the phone and called Rampart's Base Station. "Rampart, this is Squad 51."

"Go ahead, 51." Mike was relieved to hear Dr. Brackett's voice on the other end of the phone.

"Rampart, we have a male victim, age 30, who has suffered a collapse. Be advised the victim is John Gage. Stand by for vitals."

Roy was taking Johnny's vitals quickly, having no clue to what would have caused his sudden deterioration. Johnny began to cough violently, spraying Roy's shirt and arms with bright red, frothy blood. "Get him on his side! Quick!"

Marco's hands shook as he helped roll Johnny onto his side to prevent him from choking on his own blood.

When the coughing finally subsided, Johnny let out a low moan. "Roy…" he whispered through his bloody lips. His eyes held the look of an animal hovering at the edge of death, pleading for help. Roy's heart skipped a beat and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

Roy worked to maintain a façade of calm. "Right here, Johnny. Chet, get some oxygen on him, high flow. Keep him on his side. Take it easy, Johnny, an ambulance is on the way. Where do you hurt?"

"Everywhere...joints." He was almost panting and he closed his eyes. "Feel like… I've been beat… with a stick."

Roy could tell Johnny had a fever, but this wasn't any common flu, and this certainly had nothing to do with his concussion. He cut Johnny's shirt and undershirt open, and suppressed a gasp at the fresh bruising that covered most of his chest.

The remaining color drained from Chet's face. "Roy…"

"Good Lord," Cap muttered under his breath. "When did that happen?"

Chet felt a wave of guilt. "God, that's not from the basketball, is it?"

Marco spoke up. "Roy, his right shoulder is really bruised, too. We saw it this morning. He said he fell, and that that's when he scraped his arm."

Roy processed the information, trying to make sense of the odd symptoms. He saw the bruise rapidly spreading across Johnny's cheek. It didn't add up. His arm hadn't bled all day; it shouldn't be starting now.

Roy moved to where he could see Johnny's face better. "Johnny, you've got a lot of bruising. Do you know what that's from?"

Johnny's pain-filled eyes cracked open briefly, then he responded with a strangled sound as his body started to shake. Roy hovered protectively while the seemingly endless spasm wracked Johnny's body. _Great. Just Great._

Roy wiped sweat from his own forehead. He needed to update Rampart on Johnny's condition and get him to a hospital. "Marco, Chet, watch him close. Be ready to get that mask off him fast if he starts coughing up more blood." They silently nodded.

Roy moved over to the phone. "Rampart, victim's BP is 90 over 60. Heart rate is 130 and irregular. Respirations are 30 and labored. Victim is diaphoretic, and has coughed up a large amount of blood. He has widespread bruising across his chest and right shoulder, and is bleeding from a superficial wound to the right forearm, sustained yesterday or the day before."

Roy grimaced as the violent coughing began again. Chet wiped blood off Johnny's mouth before replacing the mask. Roy steadied himself and continued. "Victim reported tasting blood before his collapse, and reported pain in his joints. We have positioned him on his left side, and have started him on oxygen. Victim has had one convulsion, lasting about 45 seconds, and he is unconscious at this time. Uh, he has been complaining of fatigue and headache for several days."

"51, start one IV of Ringer's lactate, wide open, and administer 5 mg of diazepam, IV. Set up a cardiac monitor, keep him on his side, and continue with the oxygen. Transport as soon as possible. Monitor vitals every 5 minutes."

_1:35 p.m._

Terri had been keeping her eye on the staff around the Base Station for the past hour and a half, waiting for the call to come in. She knew just when it happened by the worried expressions on Dixie and Dr. Brackett.

Dixie emerged from the Base Station and took Terri by the arm. She steered her over to the nurses' station. "What's up, Dixie?" she asked with feigned innocence.

Dixie looked in the young nurse's eyes, and decided that being direct was the best way to proceed. "Terri, I don't know how to say this, but here goes. That was 51. Johnny collapsed at the station and they're bringing him in."

Terri pretended to steady herself with the counter. "Collapsed? Like heat exhaustion again? Dixie…" She made sure to breathe a little faster, and use a slightly higher pitch in her expertly quavering voice.

"We don't know what caused it, but Dr. Brackett thinks it's most likely an infection of some sort. He's in pretty rough shape, Terri. He's coughing up blood and has had one convulsion. We'll know more when he gets here. I'm going to need to ask you to--"

"Dixie, you can't ask me to stay out. You know that. I can handle this. I need to be there."

"Terri, you can be there, but you need to stay out of the way, or I'll have to ask you to wait outside."

"Okay," Terri nodded quickly. Her heart leaped. That had been easier than she'd dreamed. Dixie must really be rattled.

Terri felt an almost electrical surge throughout her body when the gurney carrying Johnny blasted through the emergency room doors. She knew that Johnny had had another convulsion during transport, and that he had gone into respiratory arrest. Roy held the resuscitator mask on Johnny's face, forcing air into the younger man's lungs as he lay on his side. An ambulance attendant followed, holding the IV bags, the blood on his white uniform particularly dramatic.

Terri rushed into the treatment room and produced a heart-wrenching gasp, relishing her part as the anguished girlfriend. "Johnny…" Then, she moved out of the way, where she could observe without being escorted out. She stood beside Roy as the ambulance attendant left the room. Terri could feel the tension radiating from Roy, and she fed on his anxiety. She wanted to position herself where she could see Johnny's face, but the treatment team crowded around him and blocked most of her view.

Terri got an adrenaline rush as she caught glimpses of Dr. Brackett intubating Johnny and putting him on a ventilator. He was unconscious. Critical. Struggling to survive. And, it was all her doing. She heard Dr. Brackett order all the tests she knew he would. Blood cultures, complete blood count, electrolytes, urinalysis, arterial blood gas, coagulation screen to check his clotting factors… Perfect. He was looking for an infection. If only the invincible Dr. Brackett knew who was really running the show.

Dr. Brackett's sharp instructions to a nurse brought her back to the present. "Tell the lab I want these results stat."

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse answered as she left the room with the specimens.

Gradually, the mood in the room began to improve slightly as Johnny's vitals began to stabilize. Dr. Brackett stared at the motionless young man in front of him, listening to the reassuring cycles of the ventilator and beeps from the monitor. _What did I miss the other day? _He looked at the smear of blood on his own lab coat and shook his head. "Dixie, when those lab results come in, I want to be paged. And, I want him monitored very closely. We've had enough surprises." To himself, he added, _I've already let him down once._

"Sure thing, Kel." Dixie walked up to Roy and Terri, who still stood by the wall near the door, and she motioned them into the hall. "Roy, you need to go get cleaned up and try to relax. I'm sure there are some very anxious firefighters who would like an update. We'll take good care of him."

Roy nodded silently, his fear written clearly across his features as he stared at Johnny. This was always the hardest time. The flurry of activity was over for the moment, and the waiting began. _Dead time, _he thought ironically. He took one step closer to Johnny and hesitated, torn between his instinct to reassure Johnny with physical contact, and his apprehension that he himself might lose the tenuous hold on his emotions if he did.

Dixie sensed his uncertainty, and she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "It's okay. I'll be with him. I want to get him cleaned up a little anyway." Roy nodded again and left the room.

Dixie looked at Terri, who still stood near the door. "Terri," Dixie smiled gently at the nurse, "I'd like you to go wait in the lounge. Is there anyone you want to call?"

Terri allowed tears to well up in her eyes. She bit her lip tensely, and silently shook her head, playing the part so well. "Please, Dixie, let me stay."

"If you're up to it, I suppose it won't hurt." She very gently began to wipe up the blood that had dried on Johnny's neck and chest. She didn't dare show Terri how hard this was for her. She quietly said, "He's lucky to have you, Terri. He's a very special guy."

"He certainly is, Dixie." Terri grabbed a tissue from the box and dabbed her eyes. _He certainly is._

After washing Johnny's blood off his hands and arms, Roy went to the E.R. Nurses' Station to use the phone. Part of him dreaded making the call to Joanne, but he needed to hear her voice. He kept the phone call as brief as possible, not wanting to scare her. He just told her Johnny was sick but stable, wishing to himself that it were that simple. He knew she didn't really fall for it, but she didn't press him over the phone. He'd be able to fill her in when he knew more.

Roy knew the call to the station would not be that easy.

Captain Stanley answered the phone on the first ring.

"Cap, it's Roy. Uh, Johnny's more stable."

"That's good news, right?"

After a short pause, Roy continued. "Yeah."

"But…"

"But he's unconscious and on a ventilator. He had another convulsion on the way in, even with the diazepam, and he stopped breathing. By the time we got him here, he'd coughed up so much blood they may end up giving him a transfusion." Roy hated how clinical it sounded, but that was the only way he could make himself say it.

"Roy, do they know what's wrong with him?"

"They don't know yet. They think it must be some kind of infection, but they won't know much more until the lab results start coming in. Dr. Brackett is running about every test there is to run. It looks like septic shock."

"Septic shock? Damn. Listen, Roy, Gary Snyder's coming in for Johnny, but I can't find a replacement for you, yet. I'm gonna need you back when Snyder gets here. I'll send him in with the squad and a clean uniform for you. You can stay at Rampart until you get a call. Just keep us informed, will ya?" When Roy didn't answer, Hank wasn't sure if he was still on the line. "Roy, you still there?"

A very quiet voice responded. "Yeah. Uh, Cap… he's really sick." Roy's voice cracked slightly.

Hank closed his eyes and leaned his back against the wall as he processed the unspoken message. "I know, pal. I know."

The dial tone droned in Roy's ear several seconds before he hung up the phone. He sat on the stool in a heap, looking around for a familiar face, but Terri and Dixie were both still in with Johnny. How would he face Terri? This had all happened right in front of him, and he now knew he should have taken Johnny in right at the beginning of the shift. Johnny never fell asleep on the job. Why had he discounted it? Would his own error in judgment cost Johnny his life? His self-reproach was surpassed only by his concern for his friend.

Roy stood up anxiously when Terri finally emerged from Johnny's room.

"Roy?" Terri's voice was barely above a whisper. "He looks so vulnerable, Roy. What am I going to do if he…doesn't…?" She sat down and buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Her performance was worthy of an Academy Award.

Roy felt very awkward. It was hard enough to keep his own emotions in check, let alone find himself in a position to comfort a woman whom he hardly knew. He searched the halls for someone who might be able to console Terri. He saw no one, so he tried to lighten the mood with optimism.

"Terri, I've known Johnny a long time. He'll pull through this." He tried to convince himself as much as anyone.

"But, they don't even know what's wrong." Terri sniffled and wiped her eyes. "We always think doctors know everything, but they don't. Sometimes they don't know what's wrong until it's too late." She looked up at Roy through her seemingly tortured eyes. "I don't want to lose him, Roy. He has to get better. Why didn't I see this coming? He's been really tired, but Dr. Brackett gave him a clean bill of health just two days ago. How could he have missed this?"

Dixie walked up behind them. "If I know Kelly Brackett, I'm sure he'll want to know the same thing. There's really nothing more I can tell you, Roy, until Dr. Brackett gets those lab results back. As you know, his symptoms point to possible septic shock, but we won't know more about a cause until the blood cultures come back...."

Roy finished the thought. "…And that could take a while."

"Right now we're getting him ready to move up to I.C.U. You can wait up there if you like."

Terri stood up and raised her chin. "I'm staying by Johnny's side."

When Snyder finally arrived, Roy changed into his fresh uniform while his temporary partner went to fill the drug box and take it to the squad. Snyder returned with two cups of coffee and joined Roy in the notoriously uncomfortable ICU waiting area. Roy quickly put his coffee down and stood up anxiously when he saw Dr. Brackett coming up the hall, but he couldn't read his expression. Dr. Brackett stopped by Johnny's room and motioned for Terri to join him before he approached Roy.

"The chest X-rays revealed plenty of fluid in his lungs, which is no surprise based on the amount of blood he coughed up. The preliminary lab results are consistent with an infection of some sort. There are a few more labs I want to run, but I've got him started on penicillin in case it's bacterial. I've ordered some Vitamin K treatments to bring his clotting factors back in line, and we're going to start a transfusion."

"But, you still don't know what's causing this?" Terri asked tentatively, carefully hiding her true motive for the question.

Dr. Brackett grimaced slightly. "Nothing's shown up on the blood cultures yet, but it's still very early. If the infection is bacterial in nature, the penicillin should help combat it; if it's viral, I'm afraid he may get worse before he gets better. Right now, he's holding his own. We'll keep doing what we're doing and monitor him very closely. I'll keep you posted."

"Can I go see him a minute?" Roy asked.

"I'm going to go examine him, and you can come in when I'm finished."

Terri started follow Dr. Brackett into Johnny's room, but he stopped in the doorway. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

Although she privately seethed at what she viewed as arrogance, she smiled sweetly. "Yes, of course, Dr. Brackett."

Dixie sensed that Roy needed to see Johnny alone, so she took Terri with her to get some coffee.

Roy stood by Johnny's bed, looking at his friend. Although he was now cleaned up, Roy still couldn't look at Johnny without envisioning the violent coughing and convulsions that had brought the man here. _I feel like I've been beat with a stick. Roy… _Johnny's last words echoed in his mind. He was glad to finally have a moment alone with his friend. Terri had been with Johnny almost every moment since he entered the hospital. Roy wanted to be happy Johnny had found Terri, but found that her recent omnipresence made him feel like an intruder. He briefly felt guilty for thinking about himself. He pushed the thoughts from his mind. These were feelings he would only be able to share with Joanne. He needed the comfort of her arms, her soothing words, her emotional support. It seemed like it would be an eternity before he would finally get to see her again.

Roy ventured to gently touch Johnny's arm. "Get better," he whispered.

Snyder poked his head in the door. "Roy, we got a run."

Despite the late hour of the day and the warehouse fire they had fought for several hours, the men of 51s ate very little when they finally sat down for dinner. Talk was limited and the mood was somber. Roy leaped from his chair when the phone rang, and he picked it up on the second ring.

"Oh, hi, Honey. No, we haven't heard from the hospital. Can I call you right back from the dorm? Yeah. Love you. Talk to you in a minute. Bye." Roy let out a tense sigh and headed back to call his wife in private. It was time to unload a little.

As soon as he left the room, Chet spoke up with a very worried tone. "It's got to be bad if Roy's this jumpy." Chet was obviously still very shaken up by the scene earlier in the day. "I couldn't believe all the blood. He just kept coughing up more and more. I've never seen anything like that." He shuddered as he pushed more of his food around his plate. He finally gave up and laid his fork down.

"I have," Mike said quietly. All eyes turned to him. "Not in a person, though."

"What do you mean, Mike?" Hank inquired.

"I had a dog when I was a kid. I knew at the time I'd never forget it. I was right. He got into some rat poison. He coughed up blood like that before he…" Mike didn't complete the sentence.

"Before he…died?" Chet questioned, his fear evident in his voice.

Mike just nodded, regretting that he'd spoken up at all.

Chet looked at the others in the room for reassurance. "Well, at least we know Johnny hasn't been in to any rat poison. Right, guys?"

By mid-morning, the I.C.U. waiting room was full. Hank, Chet, Mike, and Marco gathered around Roy, waiting for an update. Other off-duty firefighters had trickled through all morning to offer their support. Terri stood right outside Johnny's room while Dr. Brackett examined him again.

The doctor joined the men, with Terri at his side. "Well, he's no worse. The most recent blood work shows his hematocrit and clotting factors are greatly improved. His lungs sound better, too. Remarkably better. His fever is down a little, but his blood work is still indicating that he's fighting an infection of some sort."

"So, the penicillin is working?" Roy asked, sounding hopeful.

"So it would seem… but nothing's showing up on his blood cultures yet."

Chet spoke up. "Doc, what kind of infection could make a guy cough up blood like that? Mike here said he had a dog do that once from poison."

Terri's heart began to race, and she could feel her face heating up. "Poison?"

Dr. Brackett and Roy looked at the quiet engineer for clarification.

"Rat poison," Mike said simply.

"Rat poison? Roy, were you on any runs where Johnny could have been exposed to some toxic substances? Do you know if he uses poisons around his ranch? Or has he been anywhere recently where he might have been exposed to some sort of toxins?"

Roy shook his head. "I can't think of anything, but I'll try. He has cats for rodent control at his place. He's always been paranoid about the kids or anybody's pets getting into any pesticides. He doesn't even use weed killer."

"Well, to cover all our bases, I'll order up a toxicology screen, and check his salicylate levels, too. It could explain some of his bleeding. I'll be in the library," Dr. Brackett said as he started to leave.

Terri regained her inner composure enough to throw them another red herring. "Dr. Brackett? This is probably nothing, but, after you checked Johnny out the other day and didn't find anything wrong, Johnny picked up a bunch of vitamins at a health-food store," she lied. "He thought maybe he was run down because he hadn't been eating right."

Dr. Brackett considered what she said. "Would you happen to be able to get to those bottles and bring them in? I guess it's possible that they were tampered with. I don't want to discount any possibility."

"I hate to leave Johnny, but if it will help, I'll go right now."

"Do you want someone to drive you?" Roy offered.

"No, thanks." Terri dabbed her eyes and sniffed. "I think I need to be alone for a little while, and I need to change out of this uniform anyway, and I'm sure I look like a wreck." She smiled. "I don't want to scare Johnny when he does wake up. Thanks, though, Roy. I can see why you and Johnny are such good friends. I'd like to have a few minute with him alone, before I leave, if you don't mind."

Roy nodded, and went to call Joanne. He hoped she would be able to join him soon. He really needed her there.

Terri was pleased when the young woman came so quickly to collect the samples for the lab, and she was not about to let the opportunity pass her by. _N. Hallman,_ she read on the name badge. _N is most likely for Nancy…_

"Nancy… it's Nancy isn't it? Thank you so much. Did Dr. Brackett remember to tell you that he asked me to take those samples to the lab? He's so worried he probably forgot."

The woman had no reason to question Terri's comment. She smiled, nodded, and handed the samples over to Terri. "Here you are, Miss Miller, thanks." It was one less thing on her own list of things to do.

Replacing Johnny's samples had been simple. The man recovering from thyroid surgery was so groggy he never questioned the pretty nurse who came in.

She quickly placed Johnny's labels on the new containers and disposed of the originals. She made sure to stress to the lab personnel that these were to be processed STAT and that Dr. Brackett was to be paged as soon as the results were in. She knew the samples wouldn't fool the doctor; the results would obviously belong to someone else. But, it would cause him to repeat the tests, which would buy her time. Feeling triumphant from knowing that she had just bought herself an extra two or three hours before they realized the truth, she headed out to her car.

Terri drove straight to her apartment, formulating the next phases of her plan as she drove. The fact that the people at the hospital thought she was driving clear out to Johnny's ranch allowed her more freedom. She grabbed an outfit from a box and changed out of her uniform. She entered her darkroom, intending to pack up the equipment and supplies, but the negatives were simply too powerful for her to resist. She looked at her watch and quickly pulled down the negatives. Again she went through the familiar steps of filling the trays with chemicals: developer, stop, fixer, water. She could have spent hours scrutinizing the pictures, enlarging, cropping, creating special effects; but, this time she was forced to settle for basic prints. She felt herself shiver as the striking pictures of Johnny gradually appeared on the papers before her, starting with her favorite. Pleased with her work, she hung them up to dry and then packed her gear into a box.

Terri called a cab and hopped a ride to the nearest Rent-a-Dent, where she showed a fake ID under the name of Jeri Milardo. From there, she drove to the nearest store and bought two bottles of vitamins, then drove back to her apartment. She dumped several pills from each bottle down the toilet and flushed them away, putting the bottles into her purse. She quickly loaded the enlarger and the packed boxes into the rented car, then returned to her apartment for a final check. She walked into the room that had served as her darkroom and looked appreciatively at the photographs, most of which were, unfortunately, still in the process of drying. But, the first picture, her favorite, was dry. Her pulse quickened each time she looked at it. She carried out her most prized possessions last: her camera bag and the strongbox that contained so much of her life. She added the picture of Johnny to her box, and placed it and the camera bag under the front seats of the rental car. She parked it in a lot across the street, pleased that the remaining photographs were all she had left to pack. She walked back to her own car with a swing in her step, and returned to the hospital. She would be ready for a quick departure when the time came.

Terri was slightly taken aback when she entered Johnny's room. Roy and Joanne occupied the two chairs. Roy had fallen asleep, and Joanne was holding Johnny's hand. Joanne pointed to the hall as she quietly stood up, gently placing Johnny's hand on the bed and smoothing the sheet. They stood outside the main door.

"How are you holding up?" she asked Terri.

"Oh, Joanne, it's been just awful. It breaks my heart to see Johnny like this. Roy probably told you Dr. Brackett is even looking for poisons! To help him out, I went to Johnny's and got his vitamins. I just turned them over to the lab. How is Johnny? I wanted to look at his chart."

"Dr. Brackett said Johnny's recovery over the last few hours has been practically miraculous. He's still waiting on those other tests -- toxicology something -- but the most recent lab results show he's a lot better. Brackett says Johnny's lungs are resolving, too. It's an answer to our prayers."

Joanne and Terri both jumped when they heard the vent alarms going off in Johnny's room. Roy was already up and talking to Johnny as he began to wake up.

"It's Roy, Johnny. You're on a ventilator. You're gonna be okay."

Terri rushed to the bedside, squeezing her way between Roy the side of the bed. "Johnny, Honey, it's Terri. Try to relax. Roy's getting Dr. Brackett."

Dr. Brackett was very relieved to find Johnny relatively alert and oriented.

"Johnny, I'm going to keep you on the vent a little longer. We'll get some new lab tests, and check your arterial blood gas again. I also want another chest X-ray to make sure you don't have any more bleeding. If everything looks good, you should be ready to come off later today."

Johnny responded with a very slight nod and a weak thumbs-up gesture, then pointed to the tube in his mouth and gave a thumbs down.

Dr. Brackett's mouth twitched with empathy for his friend. "I know. I'll give you a sedative to make you more comfortable, and to give your body a bit more rest. Hang in there, John. You're getting better."

Dr. Brackett hung up the phone in his office as Dixie walked in holding a clipboard.

Dr. Brackett's frustration could be heard in his voice. "Well, we can rule out those vitamins as the source of any toxins. They're plain old run-of-the-mill vitamins. Any word on those blood cultures, Dix?"

"Nothing growing yet, but the tox screen just came back." She handed the clipboard over to the doctor, and watched him expectantly.

Dr. Brackett scanned the printout, flipping to the second page, then he read it all again, shaking his head. "These lab results don't make any sense. There has to be some mistake. There has to have been some mix-up at the lab. This shows opiates in his system, and no sign of the diazepam! These results can't be Johnny's. For cryin' out loud, this is just the kind of screw-up Johnny doesn't need right now. Somebody's going to hear about this. Dixie, I need these tests redone ASAP. Can you see to it?"

By mid-afternoon, Dr. Brackett had allowed the sedative to wear off and taken Johnny off the ventilator. Roy and Joanne went to call Captain Stanley and share the good news, while Terri again waited right outside Johnny's room.

Terri sat by Johnny's bed the moment she was allowed back in the room. Johnny lifted his oxygen mask as Terri held a glass of water to his lips. He gratefully took a small sip to soothe his raw throat. He smiled weakly at Terri and then looked at Dr. Brackett. "News, Doc?" Johnny croaked, his voice ragged from the irritation of the vent tube.

Dr. Brackett crossed his arms and shook his head in frustration. "The lab botched your first tox screen and I'm waiting on the second one now."

"Tox? Why? I haven't been exposed to anything, Doc."

"Nothing has shown up on your blood cultures, Johnny. This could just be a nasty viral infection, but there's also the possibility that you were exposed to a poison of some kind. Terri brought in your vitamins and they checked out, so we're still at a loss until we get those results from toxicology."

"Vitamins?" Johnny was beginning to get drowsy again, his body still exhausted. He didn't remember any vitamins.

Terri moved closer to his bed and kissed his forehead. She spoke in a loving and soothing tone, lulling him into a deeper state of relaxation. "Shhh, shhh, Johnny. Let your vocal cords rest. Everything will be fine."

"What vit--"

Terri interrupted him. "Roy would love to come see you a minute before you fall asleep again, Hon. We've all been so worried."

Johnny nodded as Terri moved toward the door to find Roy.

Dr. Brackett was going to mention to Johnny that along with Roy, Terri had been by his side nearly every minute it had been permitted. But, he noticed Johnny's breathing had deepened. He was sleeping.

Roy and Joanne peeked their heads in the room and the relief at seeing Johnny sleeping peacefully without the ventilator was written across their faces. They stepped back into the hall, followed by Dr. Brackett, as Terri sat down next to Johnny's bed.

The elevator doors opened and Chet stepped out. He held the door for the obviously agitated Dr. Brackett. "I'm going to go stand in that lab until they have some decent answers for me," Dr. Brackett barked as the elevator doors closed.

Chet winced as he came to get an update from Roy. "Man, what's got Brackett so worked up? Johnny's not worse is he?"

Roy smiled reassuringly. "No, Johnny's better, actually. He's off the vent and sleeping. Brackett's waiting on the new lab results. I guess the lab messed up the first tox screen."

"Well, in that case, want to go get something to eat?"

Roy nodded, suddenly noticing how hungry he was. "That sounds good. I'm starved. How about you, Honey?" He looked at his wife and blushed when his stomach let out a loud growl.

Joanne laughed, but declined. "I need to go pick up Jenny and Chris from Suzanne's house in a couple hours. I think I'll drive out to Johnny's first and get some of his things for when he's feeling a little better, unless Terri already did."

"No, I don't think she did. He keeps his shaving supplies under his bathroom sink."

"You would send your wife into a bachelor's bathroom?" Chet asked, pretending to sound astonished. "You married a brave woman, Roy," he kidded.

Joanne waved him off and gave Roy a quick kiss. "Bye, Honey."

"She never kisses me good bye," Chet mused as Roy elbowed him in the ribs.

Terri gently rubbed Johnny's cheek. They were alone. It was time to bring him clear to the edge of death and back again. This time she would be able to control it all, and see it all. The ultimate adrenaline rush. She slid her hands into the thin rubber gloves, and removed the 60cc syringe and the needle from her pocket. She attached the needle to the empty syringe and uncapped it. She pulled the plunger back and attached the needle to the injection port of the IV tubing. She rapidly injected the air into the IV line, then removed the syringe. She tossed it onto the floor, where it would be easy for someone to find. Her hands shook with excitement as she removed the gloves and put them in her pocket. Her eyes were fixed on Johnny, and her attention was so focused on his features that she was oblivious to all else. She stood transfixed. The effects of the infusion of air were almost immediate, and very dramatic. His body lurched and his eyes flew open . He reached out desperately as he gasped for air and began to turn purple. He couldn't even cry out. As Johnny went into cardiac arrest, Terri leaned over the head of the bed and pressed the button to activate the code bells. Warbling bells sounded as she dropped the head of Johnny's bed and heroically began CPR.

Roy tossed his tray onto the nearest table and ran to the stairwell when he heard the chilling words across the intercom system.

Any doctor… Code Blue in ICU 4. Code Blue in ICU 4.

Chet was right behind him.

"What?" he called to Roy, who was taking the stairs two at a time.

"Code Blue...Johnny's room," was all Roy could get out as he raced to the ICU.

Chet felt a sharp constriction in his gut. _Oh, God._

As the team worked furiously to resuscitate Johnny, Roy and Chet paced nervously out in the hall.

"Can't you go in there and help?" Chet asked desperately.

"I don't want to get in the way. They have enough people for this, and the room is too small. Believe me - it's killing me waiting out here."

"At least go see what's happening. I can't stand this!"

With a quick glance at Chet's wide eyes, Roy couldn't stand on the sidelines any longer. He ducked into the doorway of Johnny's room.

Dr. Brackett had his stethoscope on Johnny's chest, listening to Johnny's heart. Roy thought he heard Dr. Brackett mutter something about "crunching," and the words "air embolism," and Roy watched the team expertly flip Johnny onto his left side, keeping his head down. Roy stayed out of the way, his heart still racing, as Dr. Brackett skillfully inserted an intracardiac needle into Johnny's chest and drew out a syringe full of air.

Roy stood silently as the scene before him continued to unfold, and proper color began to return to Johnny's face. Terri rushed past Roy and out the door.

When Terri burst out of the room and hurried past Chet, her faced flushed, he called after her. "Terri!" When she didn't answer, and just continued down the hall, Chet's heart leapt into his throat, and he feared the worst.

Roy had never seen such a fierce look on Dr. Brackett's face, nor had he ever heard such a sharp edge in the man's voice. "I want to know what the hell caused that. Terri?" Dr. Brackett scanned the faces that remained in the room. His eyes settled on Roy, standing in the doorway. "Where's Terri?"

Roy swallowed hard and spoke up. "Uh… she just ran out into the hall. Is Johnny gonna be okay?"

"I need to know what happened here!" Dr. Brackett turned to Dixie. "I want to talk to Miss Miller."

Dixie nodded. "I'll find her. She must be really shaken up."

Dr. Brackett and Roy moved to the hallway, where Chet continued to pace nervously. He hurried over when he saw them emerge. "What's going on, Roy? Is Johnny," he swallowed mid-sentence, and continued, "…okay?"

"He's alive, Chet," Roy replied solemnly. "I think Brackett said it might have been an air embolism. Whatever it was caused his heart to stop. Chet, did you see where Terri went?"

Chet hesitated, unsure of what Roy had told him. "His heart stopped? Terri? But… An air what? Is he gonna be okay?"

"Embolism… and I don't know. I think he'll be okay, but I've never seen one before. Where's Terri?"

Before Chet could answer, Dixie came out of the restroom with her arm around Terri's shoulder. Terri's whole body shook as she sobbed. "I tried to stop him, Dr. Brackett. I tried! He was just too big and he pushed me down. I saw a syringe! He - He-injected it and I couldn't stop him!" Her sobbing made her difficult to understand, but the message came through.

Dr. Brackett spoke in a controlled and level tone in an effort to calm her and help her focus. "Terri, who did this? What did he look like? This is very important."

Terri looked at the doctor with tear-filled eyes, biting her lip as she nodded. Her voice lowered to a tremulous whisper. "It was the same man. The man who was in my apartment. The one who hit Johnny. He threw something on the floor and ran out. Then, Johnny...started..." She intentionally began to make herself hyperventilate.

"Don't leave her alone, Dixie. That guy could still be in the building," Dr. Brackett instructed.

Dixie nodded, and escorted Terri to an empty room and had her breathe into a paper bag and lie down.

Dr. Brackett called security while Roy raced back to Johnny's room and checked the floor. Roy grabbed a tissue and carefully picked up the empty syringe, pausing to look at Johnny and make sure he really was breathing. He returned to the hall holding up the offending instrument, a grim look on his face.

Dr. Brackett visibly tensed and turned to Dr. Morton, who had also heard the Code Blue come across the intercom. "Have that sent to the lab. Don't let anyone touch it without gloves. I want to know what was in that… but I have a pretty good idea already. I need to call the police and find out where the hell that tox report is!"

When the security guard arrived, Dr. Brackett spoke to him briefly then headed to his office with Roy. Chet planted himself in a chair where he could see everyone who entered and exited Johnny's room. He wouldn't budge until the police arrived.

Once in his office, Dr. Brackett immediately called the police and informed them of the apparent attempted murder. Roy listened anxiously. As soon as the conversation with the police ended, Dr. Brackett picked up the phone again and dialed the lab.

"Yes, this is Dr. Brackett. I'm after the toxicology screen results on John R. Gage. The _second_ tox screen, and salicylate levels. Yes." He tapped his pen on the table while he waited. "Yes. Okay." He started jotting down notes, his jaw clenching and unclenching noticeably. "Yes, I got it. I want to be contacted the instant you determine the contents of that syringe, too. Oh? It was. I see. Send the reports up ASAP." Roy wasn't sure, but it looked like Dr. Brackett's hands were shaking.

Roy's eyes were on Dr. Brackett, who continued to stare at his pad of paper, nervously tapping it with his pen.

Roy couldn't quite believe his ears. "Doc...?"

"Johnny's body has been pumped full of barbiturates, salicylates, and probably an anticoagulant."

The news was staggering.

"He's been poisoned. Deliberately and carefully poisoned," the doctor said flatly, trying to keep his emotions under control. "And, his air embolism most likely came from that empty syringe. It doesn't take a genius to figure out it was probably the same assailant."

Joanne walked upstairs to Johnny's bathroom and pulled out the shaving kit he kept under the bathroom sink. She placed the kit next to the sink and started opening drawers looking for supplies. She found all the essentials rather quickly and placed them in the bag. As she reached over to where his toothbrush hung, she bumped the bag and it landed upside down in the trashcan next to the toilet. _Oh, terrific,_ she thought. She chuckled to herself as she remembered Chet's comment about Roy sending his wife into a bachelor's bathroom. She pulled the bag out and cringed slightly as she started sifting through the trash looking for the lost items. A prescription pill bottle caught her attention. She read the name on the bottle: Charles Simmons. It was a prescription for Seconal, from some pharmacy in Portland, Oregon. She quickly considered a dozen reasons why this bottle might be in Johnny's trash, wondering in passing if Charles were one of Terri's old boyfriends. Joanne felt a little guilty for reading it at all, and tossed it back in the trash. She finished packing Johnny's kit, and washed her hands thoroughly before heading downstairs to round up some books and magazines he might like.

After the initial shock of learning that someone was apparently trying to kill Johnny, Roy felt a sudden wave of panic when he remembered that Joanne had gone to Johnny's house. Who knew what else the madman had planned? "Dr. Brackett, I need to use your phone. Joanne--" He was already dialing.

Roy breathed a sigh of relief when he heard his wife answer the phone. "Joanne, I'll tell you more when you get here, but I want you to leave Johnny's house right now. Please, just do it. Honey, I need you to meet me back at the hospital."

Joanne recognized the strain in Roy's voice, and it set her own nerves on edge. "Roy, is Johnny okay?"

"Jo, someone's been hurting him on purpose, and I want you out of there right now. Please. I love you."

He was scaring her, but she trusted him. "I'm leaving now. I love you, too."

Roy hung up the phone and sat down. "This is turning out to be real nightmare."

Dr. Brackett nodded in agreement. "That's almost an understatement. Roy, could you stay here until I get back? It's only fair that I let Terri know what's going on. We should probably have a guard watching her, too."

Dr. Brackett found Dixie talking with Dr. Morton at the nurses' station. They shook their heads with shock at the news about the poisons. "I have to tell Terri about it. I don't look forward to that conversation. As if she isn't already scared to death. Where is she, Dix?"

"After she calmed down, she went in to sit with Johnny. It seemed like the safest place for her. Want me to go with you? She might need some more support."

Dr. Brackett nodded and smiled. "I'd sure appreciate it."

Terri knew the police would be arriving soon. She kissed Johnny's cheek and traced his features lightly with her finger. She leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "Good-bye, my love. I really will miss you."

She approached the very nervous-looking security guard and smiled sweetly. "Thank you so much for guarding Johnny's room. I feel so much better knowing you're out here. I need to go to Dr. Brackett's office and wait for the police to arrive. Will you promise to keep an extra close watch on Johnny while I'm gone?"

The guard assured her that he would, and he suggested that she should have a security guard escort her. She told him that Dr. Brackett's office was very close to the elevator on the main floor, and that she would be just fine. She thanked him for his kind concern.

Chet watched the exchange from his chair, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. But, even as he wondered about their words, Terri walked over to Johnny's vigilant friend and repeated her performance. Chet promised that he wouldn't take his eyes off Johnny's room until the police arrived. Terri smiled inwardly as the elevator doors closed. If Chet hadn't been watching Johnny's room so carefully, he might have noticed that the elevator stopped on the second floor before it continued to the first floor.

Joanne arrived at the hospital and noticed the police officer positioned right outside Johnny's room, and both Chet and Mike Stoker sitting in the waiting area, where they, too, could watch Johnny's room. The atmosphere of the hospital felt almost foreign from the almost palpable tension. The two firefighters stood as Joanne approached, a bewildered look on her face. "Where's Roy? He said someone's been doing this to Johnny intentionally. What on earth is going on?"

All three sat down, and Chet began. "You just missed him. Roy's down in Brackett's office talking with the police. Basically, all hell broke loose after you left. Roy only just now filled me in on the poisoning part. Remember when you left?"

Joanne felt as if the earth tilted. She sat down hard. "The what part? They _did_ find poison?"

Chet filled her in on the events that had unfolded while she was gone, assuring her that Johnny now appeared to be all right.

"Oh, my God." Joanne sank back in her chair as millions of questions flew through her mind. "How's Terri?"

Mike and Chet looked at each other, then Chet took a deep breath. "There's more. Dr. Brackett found out somebody's been poisoning Johnny -- That's what made him so sick -- and they figure it's the same guy. And, now, Terri has disappeared."

"You mean--" The stunning news was difficult to process.

Chet continued. "All we know for sure is that Terri identified the man as the same man who attacked Johnny in her apartment, and now Terri has disappeared. Her car's in the parking lot, she hasn't answered any pages, and there's no answer at Johnny's house or her house. It doesn't look good."

Mike finally spoke up. "Johnny's still pretty out of it. He doesn't know about any of this yet."

Joanne fought the tears that threatened to escape. "It's gonna kill him." She jumped up as Roy appeared from the elevator. She ran to him and threw her arms around him. He kissed the top of her head and held her tight. "Chet and Mike told me what happened, Roy."

He whispered in her ear as he continued to hold her. "I was so scared, Jo. You were at Johnny's, and..." he closed his eyes. "I'm glad you're here."

Roy walked over to Chet and Mike with his arm still around Joanne. "They don't have a clue who they're after. Not a clue. Not a fingerprint, not a damn clue. They're going to go search Johnny's place now, and his truck, and his locker. Joanne, did anything seem strange when you were there?"

Joanne shook her head, then she remembered the pill bottle. "Just a pill bottle in Johnny's trashcan. It had someone else's name on it. Charles Simmons."

"What else did it say, Jo? What was the prescription for?" Roy felt his heart rate quicken.

"Let me think. Let me think. It was from somewhere in Oregon, and it was for seco-something."

"Secobarbitol?" Roy asked anxiously, remembering what Dr. Brackett had said about barbiturates.

"No, it was shorter than that. Seconil maybe?"

"Seconal? Was it Seconal? That's a sleeping pill. Johnny had barbiturates in his system." He looked at Mike and Chet, "I need to go tell the cops. Which trashcan, Joanne?"

"Upstairs bathroom, why? Is it important?"

"It could be, thanks. I'll be right back." Roy hurried back to Dr. Brackett's office.

Chet finally started to lose his control. "That bastard! I knew we should have staked out her apartment when the guy attacked Johnny. I knew it. That's probably him. Charles Simmons."

Mike didn't react the same at all. "Why didn't the guy ever grab Terri?"

"Are you crazy? It looks like he did! And, he almost killed Johnny."

Mike continued with his train of thought. "It looks like he did. But, why didn't he grab her from her apartment the night he attacked Johnny? Why didn't he grab her from Johnny's room today?"

Chet lowered his voice, leaning closer to Mike. "You don't mean you think she's in on it, do you?"

Mike didn't answer.

"You're crazy, Mike! You didn't see her, man, she was really upset."

"I don't know what to think, Chet. I just have a lot of questions. How the hell could the guy poison Johnny and not Terri? They were eating and drinking all the same stuff, except when he was on duty, and none of us got sick."

The pretty young woman with short, curly blonde hair called for a cab from the beauty salon. She tipped the man well and looked across the street to her apartment. She cursed loudly when she saw the patrol car parked out front. She would have to leave the photographs. _Dammit. _Everything else had worked out so perfectly. She walked to her packed rental car and checked under the front seats to make sure her camera and strongbox were still there. She pulled the strongbox out and placed it on the seat next to her. She opened it and placed her mother's rings on her left hand. She held the one photograph of Johnny up to the light of the street lamp, and stroked the stained white cloth fondly, remembering their first date. She felt good about saving Johnny's life, but she would truly miss him. She replaced the treasures to her box, and returned it to the safe place under the seat with a rewarding sense of completion. With a final glance at her old life, she pulled out of the parking lot as Jeri Milardo.

Devlin and Grant were patrolling their usual beat when the call came over the radio to check on Terri Miller at her apartment. They had already been briefed at the station about the most recent attack on John Gage. They walked up to her second story apartment for the third time in about as many weeks. They knocked on the door. No answer.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Devlin said to his younger partner. "Take this as a lesson not to ignore your gut feeling. God, I'm kickin' myself."

"Yeah, no kiddin'." Grant knocked again. "Did you hear a scream?"

Devlin's eyes narrowed. "A scream? Oh, yeah, a scream." A smile slowly spread across his face. "You're makin' me proud, Grant. I think I just heard another scream."

The two men broke the door in and entered the apartment.

By morning, Johnny was up to asking questions. His voice still sounded quite hoarse, but for the first time in many days, his headache was receding. "What's the word, Doc?"

As tired as Johnny was, he still noticed the slight twitch at the corner of Dr. Brackett's mouth, and he felt himself tense with apprehension.

"There'll be plenty of time to discuss that later, Johnny. You just get some more rest." Brackett tried to smile reassuringly. He knew that his answer wouldn't hold Johnny for long, but he hoped it would stall him until he was a bit stronger. He saw Johnny swallow hard and close his eyes.

"Come on, Doc, be straight with me. I feel like an elephant sat on my chest."

"Well, that could be from a few things."

"Bottom line, Doc. You're makin' me nervous. Heart condition? Tumor? Cancer? Is it something that will end my career?" came the gravelly whisper.

The question threw Dr. Brackett completely off guard. "What? No, no." He took a deep breath and sat down. "Johnny, I don't know how to say this except to come right out and say it." He hesitated again. "Johnny, you were poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Johnny's eyes snapped open, his mouth gaping in disbelief, and he tried to sit up higher in the bed. "What? How?"

"Barbiturates and blood thinners, aspirin."

"I don't understand. I didn't take any of that…just a couple aspirin..." The gravity of Dr. Brackett's words began to sink in. "And, yesterday? I remember coming off the vent, and Terri was here. I guess I dozed off."

Dr. Brackett shifted uneasily and took a deep breath. "Yesterday you had an air embolism. You were in full cardiac arrest."

"Where'd _that_ come from?" Johnny asked, feeling overwhelmed.

Brackett didn't answer immediately.

"Doc?" Johnny's anxious voice interrupted the doctor's thoughts.

"Johnny, someone entered your room and injected air into your IV port."

Johnny stared at the doctor, stunned. When he did speak, his ragged voice was just above a whisper. "You mean somebody did all this... on purpose? Does Roy know?"

Dr. Brackett nodded.

"...and Terri?" Johnny asked tentatively.

Johnny saw the telltale nervous twitch again. "Does Terri know?" he repeated, louder.

The doctor looked Johnny in the eye, and told the truth, as well as he knew it. "Terri was in the room at the time, and she hit the code alarm and started CPR."

"God... then she saw who... Who was it?" His breathing was getting faster.

Dr. Brackett stood up and placed his hands on Johnny's bed. "Johnny, I've said too much already. You need to be recuperating. The rest you need to hear from the police when you're stronger."

"Where's Terri, Doc? Where's Roy? Who did this? I want to see Terri. Did he hurt her?" Johnny started to sit to get out of bed.

Dr. Brackett spoke quietly and firmly to the agitated man. "Roy's at the police station. I'll tell you what I can, but you need to agree to lie back down or I'll give you a sedative that will knock you out until you're healed. Do you understand?"

Johnny nodded and lay back, too weak to get far, even if he pushed the issue. "Please, just tell me what's going on."

Dr. Brackett chose his words carefully. "Terri said she saw the man who attacked you in her apartment inject the air into your IV port. She said she couldn't stop him."

"Did he hurt her? Where is she? She must be so--"

"From what we can tell, Terri left the hospital after you were resuscitated, and she never came back."

"He took her? That bastard got her! God, why did you let her out of your--" Johnny again struggled to rise, but this time Dr. Brackett's words alone stopped him.

"Johnny, there's an APB out for Terri...as a suspect. Her apartment was empty. All her stuff is gone. She's gone." Dr. Brackett hated hurting Johnny like this, but it was the only way he could keep him down, unless he followed through on the sedative. Even that would only delay his reaction. "I'm sorry, Johnny."

Johnny's eyes widened in disbelief, as his mind raced over the events of the past few weeks, looking for an explanation. He started shaking his head in denial. "No! She wouldn't do this. She wouldn't just leave. He took her. It has to be!"

Dr. Brackett's silence was deafening.

Johnny tried to yell, but his inflamed throat wouldn't permit. All that he emitted was a strangled, "This is all a mistake." His eyes burned.

"Johnny--"

"Empty?"

"Johnny, I guess they found some other...evidence...too. I'm not clear on the details. The police will want to talk to you when I give the go ahead. I'm sorry, Johnny."

Johnny's mind was flooded with images and thoughts of the last few weeks. His voice was now an anguished whisper. "She's really gone?"

Johnny gave his brief statements to the two police detectives who were finally allowed to question him. He learned that Terri had disappeared without leaving much of a trail, and that her nursing credentials had been forged. The police revealed that they had recovered the pill bottle from Johnny's trash. They had tracked down Charles Simmons through the pharmacy which had filled his prescription. They discovered that he was a police officer in Portland, Oregon. Johnny became numb to the details as the officers described the Simmons story, which sounded hauntingly similar to Johnny's. He had initially been injured in a hit-and-run accident, and at the hospital he met a gorgeous young nurse who was new to the area....

Johnny largely tuned them out, but every now and then a salient word or phrase would cut through his emotional fog: hospital... disturbed... suffer... pleasure... photographs...

"Mr. Gage?" The two detectives looked at one another, and then back at the man whom they thought they were talking to. The taller detective cleared his throat and repeated, "Mr. Gage? Are you all right, sir?"

Johnny was jolted from his thoughts. "I'm listening. Go on."

The Oregon police were rushing them a picture and some fingerprints, and they fully expected to make a positive identification. Then, they could get an arrest warrant. Oregon had already referred to her Pandora, for her almost irresistible beauty and charm, which concealed her frightening and dangerous interior.

Johnny considered the name. _Pandora. _"Pandora was a person. The evil she unleashed was in a box. Pandora's box. She didn't know what would happen."

The two detectives were startled by his response. "Huh?"

Johnny shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing. Greek mythology. Pandora. I'm really tired, guys. Are we about done here?"

The shorter detective pulled an envelope from his ill-fitting jacket. "Uh, just one more thing. We were hoping you could give us some sort of timeline on when these pictures might have been taken. They were found in her apartment."

Johnny felt a nauseating chill run through him as he looked at picture after picture of himself, giving the detectives the dates they needed. After they left, he refused all other visitors, including Roy.

Dixie came in uninvited.

"Dix, I don't feel like talking."

"Good," she said, "because I've had people talking at me all afternoon, and I am sick to death of listening. I came in here to get away from them. It looks like an off-duty firemen's convention out there. And, the reporters… well, don't even get me started about the reporters."

Johnny rolled and unrolled the edge of his sheet. "Tell them it's another case of mistaken identity. I'm just gonna be John Sage from now on."

"I'd miss Johnny Gage. There's been quite a bit of mistaken identities around here lately." Dixie toyed with a fingernail for a moment, then suddenly spoke very loudly. "You know, I'm one of the people who hired her. We didn't even check her references. Dammit, Johnny, I'm so mad I could hit somebody!"

"Dixie, I'm gonna be okay. Really."

"Johnny, you've got a lot of friends out there who would really like to see for themselves that you're going to be okay. They've been pretty scared. Roy's going to need a new pair of shoes after tonight, with all the pacing he's been doing. And, I'm sworn to secrecy about how much Chet has been here."

"Dixie, it just takes too much energy to try to put up a front. I wasn't ready for this. I never imagined being a victim. God, I thought she really liked me. She seemed so caring...but all the time, she was really just...." Johnny cleared his throat and stared at the tubing for his IV. "How do I face the guys when I let someone do this to me?"

"You didn't 'let' anyone do anything, for starters. You were victimized, Johnny," she said in a more soothing tone.

"'Victimized.' Jeez, Dixie, I can't stand feeling like this. 'Victim.' I use that word every day, and it never meant anything like this. This was deliberate, Dixie. Premeditated."

"Okay, then, call it assault, if that will help. Torture. Attack. Poisoning. Whatever term will help you deal with it. She had the medicals skills and the twisted compulsion to do this. She's mentally ill, Johnny."

"Sadistic is more like it," Johnny corrected bitterly. "The worse I got, the more caring she acted. I'm such an idiot. How could I _not_ see she was setting me up?"

"Johnny, I'm sure she made it a point to be everything you wanted in a woman. Beautiful, intelligent, nurturing--"

"Yeah, and I was everything she wanted in a man. An idiot."

"Come on, now. Remember how she met you? She traded shifts to work that floor. She arranged to be your nurse that morning. That much we do know. She knew you were a paramedic; she'd seen you around here. Lord knows, I'm sure she had heard the other nurses talking. She knew you saved that little girl, and she knew you were injured. She picked you before she even knew you. There must have been something about how you looked or what you did that triggered her to do what she did. Maybe it was seeing you on TV--who knows?"

"Well, remind me to not do it again," he countered sarcastically.

"I'll do no such thing. You are a wonderful man, John Gage. Don't let her rob you of that. She's a very disturbed woman."

Johnny shook his head in disgust. "You know, Dix, I had hit on her for weeks and she never even gave me the time of day. I should have known something was wrong when she started hittin' on me. And, you're right. It all started after that fire when I ended up being a patient here." Johnny shifted in the bed. "What would make anybody want to do something like this?"

Dixie shook her head, searching an answer. "Some of what she did reminds me a little of what I read a few months ago about something called Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy."

Johnny finally tore his eyes off his IV tubing. "Munchausen Syndrome? I thought that was like hypochondria or malingering. That wasn't Terri. Not by a long shot."

Dixie finally sat down, and pulled the chair up close to the bed. "With Munchausen by Proxy, a person injures someone under their care, usually their child--" She regretted her choice in words the instant she saw the look on Johnny's face.

"Child! This just gets better and better!"

"I didn't mean that how it sounded. These people injure someone close to them to get all the attention that comes from being a great caregiver to a really sick person. I think that was a piece of what motivated Terri."

"Great. Munchausen Syndrome By Proxy, with some violent psychosis thrown in for good measure? I sure know how to pick 'em, huh, Dix? She took care of me, all right. Almost to the door of the morgue."

"She had both the skills and the desire to hurt you and save you, but she also probably got an extra boost from outsmarting the doctors."

"How's that, Dix?"

"Well, I remember that the educational section of her resume was huge, and I remember that she said she applied for medical school at one time, but her plans changed. Who knows how much of any of that was true?"

Johnny frowned. "_Man_, I bet Dr. Brackett is pissed."

Dixie patted his arm and smiled. "That would be an understatement." Dixie rose to leave.

"Hey, Dix? I won't be dating nurses for a while."

"Sure you won't talk to Roy?"

Johnny felt a small pang of guilt. "He's really pacing out there?"

"Really pacing? Yes."

"Okay. Tell him you wore me down."

"You got it, Mister."

Roy stepped into Johnny's room hesitantly. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Johnny cleared his throat nervously.

"You look better." Roy sat down in the chair next to the bed and handed Johnny a Tupperware container full of cookies. "Joanne made these for you."

Johnny held the container and fought the lump in his throat. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to talk to Roy. He didn't want to get choked up. "Joanne…" he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

Roy shifted in his chair. He let Johnny take the lead.

Johnny fiddled with the Tupperware lid, finally venturing to look at Roy. "You know the whole story?"

"Yeah, pretty much." It was hard for Roy to look at Johnny. The emotional hurt was so apparent in his eyes. "Johnny--"

"Good, 'cause I don't really want to talk about it."

"All right." Roy sat back in his chair and waited.

"Did you know she even took pictures of me?"

"Yeah, I did." Roy was glad he hadn't actually seen the photos. Knowing that she had taken them was disturbing enough.

"I even complimented her on her photography. Car crashes, floods, earthquakes. I should have known, Roy. I should have known."

"She fooled a lot of people, Johnny."

"How could I have been so blind, Roy? I trusted her. I had no reason _not_ to trust her. How do you know when you can trust somebody?"

Roy hesitated. There was no answer; Johnny didn't need platitudes.

Johnny's voice was just above a whisper. "Roy, I feel so _stupid._ I've never been--I don't know, played with, like that. How could I not see it? I almost feel like I deserved what I got, for being such a sucker, you know?"

Roy didn't know what to say, but his own suppressed anger toward Terri neared the surface. "You didn't deserve it. Nobody deserves that. Especially you." There was so much to say.

"Roy, you saw us together. Do you think she ever cared about me at all?" He wasn't sure he was ready to ask himself the question.

"I think that if she didn't care about you, she wouldn't have gone to such great lengths to save you. Dr. Tyler said it's probably part of her disorder."

"Tyler? You've been talking to the shrink?" He placed the container of cookies on his tray.

"Yeah, I had a little chat with him. He said it sounded like she was a very complicated and disturbed lady. In her own mind, she might have even thought she loved you."

"Love," Johnny echoed bitterly. The word felt caustic. "You can have it. I quit."

Roy sat in the room with Johnny until he was again sleeping soundly. He stood up slowly and silently left Johnny's room. Then, with every ounce of restraint he possessed, he made his way down the hall to the stairwell. He was so focused in his anger at what Terri had done to Johnny that he did not see Dr. Morton in the hallway, nor did he hear him call his name. Roy opened the door to the stairwell and waited for the heavy door to shut. Then, with an almost primal shout and a string of obscenities that hadn't crossed his lips since he left the service, he punched the wall twice. He sat down hard on the top step and waited for his heart rate to return to a more normal level. Eventually, he stood up shakily and walked to the emergency room to have his hand X-rayed.

Roy came back in to see Johnny the following morning, this time wearing a short cast on his right hand.

Johnny raised one eyebrow. "What happened to your hand?"

"Banged it on something."

"You banged it on something? Come on, Roy…"

"Okay, I punched a wall."

"Sounds like an anger problem."

"Yeah, something like that."

"Sounds like you need another chat with the good Dr. Tyler," Johnny teased.

Roy shook his head and chuckled. Johnny seemed to be in a slightly better frame of mind than the day before. "You might be right. You sound better."

"So, this Tyler seems like an okay guy? For a shrink?" Johnny watched Roy from the corner of his eye.

Roy shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, he's all right. You thinkin' about talking to him?"

"Maybe I'll go ask him a few questions about your anger problem."

Roy laughed. "Be my guest, Junior."

"Man, Roy you know Chet's gonna crucify me with this. I can hear it now: 'Leave it to Gage to pick up a chick who wants him dead.' Or, how about, 'Hey, Johnny, say hi to your girlfriends for me: Nurse Jeckyll and Miss Hyde.'" He closed his eyes and lay back, imagining the inevitable. "Chet's been waiting for something like this ever since I walked into the station. I just handed him his dream on a silver platter." He opened his eyes again and looked at his friend. "Just shoot me now, okay, Roy? It'll be quicker than slow torture for the rest of my life at the hands of Chet Kelly."

"You didn't hear this from me, Johnny, but Chet really is one of your strongest supporters."

"Good one, Roy."

Roy's expression turned somber. "I'm serious, Johnny. He's fuming. We all are. I think I even heard Stoker swear."

"Yeah, well, it's easier to joke about it, you know?" he said, looking away quickly to avoid Roy's eyes.

"Johnny, I've thought a lot about some of the things you said last night. We all know you didn't do anything wrong. You trusted someone you cared about; you're _supposed_ to trust people you care about. You have no reason to feel humiliated."

Johnny let out a growl of frustration. "Roy, that's just it. I don't know how I feel. I let my guard down and look what happened. How do I know it won't happen again? It's… it's like a backdraft. Like a pressure building up inside me while some fire is just consuming everything it can get hold of. And, I'm stuck in this damn hospital bed, and I can't deal with any of it the way I usually do. Does that sound stupid?"

Roy could sense the battle going on inside his friend. He had to let Johnny work through this. Johnny didn't need someone putting words in his mouth, and Roy knew Johnny had more to say.

"One minute I'm so mad, and then the next minute I feel so empty inside that I think I'll just - I don't know! Disappear, maybe. But, you want to know the worst part?"

"What's that?"

"Sometimes, I wish Terri was here. How's that for stupid? I liked having someone take care of me -- besides you. No offense, Roy. You know what I mean." Quieter, he added, "You have Joanne…" Johnny fiddled with his IV tubing. "I feel like something -- has to happen. Like I need to flip a switch and make this all go away. You know?" He looked up and met Roy's gaze. "How am I gonna ever trust anybody? Man, I didn't even see any signs she was psycho! She was always so nice to me. God, Roy. I can't even trust my own judgment."

Roy twirled his wedding band absently. "Well, it may not mean much, but I trust you."

Johnny looked at Roy, slightly confused. "What do you mean?"

"I trust you to find yourself again after you've had some time. I trust you to keep expecting the most from the people in your life. I trust you not to live your life waiting to be betrayed again."

Johnny's expression softened slightly when he heard the word. _Betrayed._ He caught his first glimmer of realization. It was the first faint whisper of emotional validation. He nodded slowly, and then let his head sink back into his pillow, and his body began to relax.

Roy saw the change.

Even Johnny's voice sounded calmer. "That's what it was, Roy, betrayal. Terri betrayed me. I've never been betrayed like this before." He paused before making his final confession. "I kinda wanted Terri to be 'The One,' Roy."

Roy wasn't sure what to say. Johnny could be such an enigma. For a guy who shared very little about his family and childhood, he certainly wore his heart on his sleeve at times. And, as much as Johnny liked to joke about the pitfalls of marriage, Roy knew that part of him really longed for the comfortable sense of "home" and "family" that Roy had found with Joanne. Roy wished for Johnny to know that happiness some day.

Johnny sat in silence for a minute, trying to put words to the fear that his mind had been carefully avoiding. "How long am I gonna have to wait, Roy?"

Roy knew what Johnny was really asking. He thought about the warm, comforting, sense of peace he could rely on with certainty in times of crisis or emotional unrest. His sense of "being home," that he could call up at will. His true lifeline. _How long until he finds his own Joanne…_

"As long as it takes, Johnny. And it will be worth it. Trust me."


End file.
